


Teacups

by sincehewaseighteen



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: 23!Harry, 25!Louis, AU, Angst, BoyxBoy, Disneyland, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Kinks, M/M, Mad Hatter!Harry, Peter Pan!Louis, Smut, There's a load of, Unsafe Sex, a bit of, idk they just have a lot of sex, louisXharry, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincehewaseighteen/pseuds/sincehewaseighteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Looks like your attraction is not any body's cup of tea today," he puns cheekily. Harry rolls his eyes and lifts the box onto the counter easily, dusting his hands off without a blink of an eye to Louis. "I think it might be your costume."</em>
</p><p>  <em>"Alright, babe, you listen here." Harry comes forward and makes sure he's close to Louis' ear. Louis swallows carefully when Harry speaks. "Cut this shit out, you're no Peter Pan in my eyes. You're a fucking twit. I know what you're like, and that's all you need to worry about."</em><br/> <br/>or the au where louis works as peter pan at paris' eurodisney while harry's the mad-hatter who works at the teacup ride, and just so happens to be the annoyingly gorgeous man louis is in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacups

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so I binged on writing this. I expected this to be 15k but oops.
> 
> Sorry if this has a few minor mistakes. I'm tired and stuff, so I'll check through it later. It's readable nevertheless. Just a bit of a heads up with the unsafe sex and stuff. Other than that, enjoy! x

When Louis looks up to the Mad Hatter's Teacups, he can't help but to roll his eyes at the childish, arrogant, snooty, beautiful man who just so happens to be his co-worker.

It's not as if Harry Styles is the main reason why Louis always breaks out of character, but that's just it. Even in the stupid top hat that he manages to make so glorious, or that oversized bowtie spread across his chest that Louis always spots before anything else, he still looks pretty damn perfect. His socks are odd in colour. His pants are boot legged, the sides kicked out so much they're close to entering the proximity of the ugly past, not to mention they're also three quarters high and sit just a few centimetres from his leather boots. His orange make up is atrocious. His wigged hair looks like it's on fire.

Just he looks so god damn awful, but Louis only manages to scoff and stare in absolute admiration for as long as the popcorn takes to freshly pop across the promenade.

But he manages to stop himself. The Mad Hatter unlocks one of the jammed doors to his teacup collection and releases the three little gems inside who pop out and run to their mother outside of the gate. Louis turns away just as he sees Harry beginning to walk back to his station and allow the next flood of people to enter the teacup rink. 

Louis wishes he could go up to him, maybe speak to him. His lunch break is soon. He could just go with Eleanor and say she wanted to ride the teacups, just so Louis would have a reason to talk to him. They do talk, but when this rare moment appears Harry would often small talk him before continuing his snubbing there after.

For as long as Louis has been working at EuroDisney, Harry has hated him for. So...  _okay,_  how was Louis meant to know Harry has wanted the Peter Pan character role since he was little? And how was Louis meant to deal with it? He wasn't the one that chose who got the roles. The reason why he was given Peter was simply because Louis had the look and played the type. Harry is none of that. He couldn't play Peter Pan for shit, if Louis is honest, his audition lacked so much spark that Louis couldn't even see him casting as the janitor. But then again, the directors of the studio really should have given a better role to Harry than the Mad Hatter's of the teacups.

So at least Harry had a reason to hate Louis, but the reason is as stupid as his outfit. This two year feud has been daunting and quite frustrating, to say the least. Louis can't help to always think about him. Harry might be an idiot, he might suck at acting, he might act like a bastard to Louis, but Louis can't recollect and tell himself that he's really in love with Harry. He's really, really in love with him. Louis swears it's his smirk that he sees from him after work that made him crazy-head over heels for him. It's a sweet and dangerous smirk. And--  _oh, shit._  He's doing it now while he talks to the Alice girl.

"Peter!" There's a call from his right and Louis looks to see Eleanor herself waving him over with two wrapped meals in her hand. Louis smiles, running over while holding his little green hat to his head and catching up with his Wendy. Both meet and hug, despite seeing each other no less than ten minutes ago.

Life has been made a little easier since Eleanor auditioned for Wendy. She also plays Belle and Aurora after her lunch breaks. She plays all three so well that Louis has to often remind himself that the characters are being played by someone he knows. Her voices change pitch, her motions and language changes ever so slightly but the massive difference it creates is phenomenal. She's talented at what she does, not to mention she needs to remember three different signatures. All of them different cursive styles and beautifully done. Louis admires the shit out of her, and not only because she got him a double bacon and cheese burger from the Lucky Nugget Saloon.

They eat by Alice's Curious Labyrinth, a main secret location for cast members on lunch break. It's close to their meet and greet post as well. Finishing up, Louis checks his watch and there's still a half hour before his break hits its deadline. He's tempted to ask Eleanor for a ride on the teacups. Eleanor might tease him for it, she often does when the topic of Harry is floating around somewhere in their conversation. Louis often tells her he'll send her to the lost boys if she didn't quit with her  _abuse._

"Hey, are you still going to that dinner party Jaxon wants us all to go to?" Eleanor asks. Louis sits and glares up to her, eyebrows furrowed.

"Didn't even hear about it," Louis says. "Might have not been invited."

"Nah, he invited everyone. I think it's because you changed your phone number you didn't get the message," she explains, and Louis is a little relieved to hear that. It's certainly not a good thing if your boss didn't invite you to a dinner event. It's probably the end of Louis' world, or job. "He's hired a boat for the Seine. I'll message you the time and stuff later, it's this Saturday. I'm not too sure why he's organized it to be honest."

"Maybe an announcement. A raise or something," snorts Louis. "We could only wish."

Eleanor slaps his arm and laughs with the boy. "You're the one with magic. Do your worst."

"Pfft, if that worked I would have millions of dollars and a mansion in Montmartre."

"And a companion by your side?" Eleanor questions, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows. "A little Harry Styles in a pretty maid costume--"

"Oh fuck off," he hisses at her, but she barks out with laughter. "And you're telling me to shut up about him."

"Please, even I'd dream of Styles in a pretty maid costume for me." She stands and picks the rubbish up between the two of them, throwing them away in the trash just beside their bench spot. "Coming with? I might see Liam before we go back to work."

Louis sighs and relaxes his shoulders. Looks like no Harry Styles attempt today. "I'll stay here for the rest of lunch I think. You run along, love." And Eleanor does.

He's back at his post a short time afterwards and sees the Mad Hatter leaving off to lunch. Louis sits around and waits, working a little into his lunch break when children run up to him, begging for a photo and a hug. Louis loves kids. Always has, always will. He thinks that's the best part of working; seeing little children light up when they see Peter Pan. Louis almost thinks it's better than any type of cash he might be paid.

Then again, a raise would do wonders for him. His flat is small and takes over half of his weekly pay in rent. He can't afford some car, so he takes the bus every day. 45 minutes in and out from work into the heart of Paris. It's sometimes the time of the day Louis looks forward to. Three quarters of an hour on a quiet bus and to dig into some type of sappy romance that Louis could only wish was him and Harry. Or some other guy.  _Yeah._  He's not  _that_  obsessed with the Mad Hatter.

Chatelet Les Halles isn't the best place to be around either. The roads are busy and there's someone dying every couple of minutes, or so it seems with the ambulances making a ruckus through the area. Sure, it's pretty and all, and relatively close to the Eiffel Tower, but since moving to live here when he was 22, the tower doesn't seem at all appealing. It's just metal to him now. There's nothing significant about it, or Paris at all as a matter of fact.

Now 25, Louis feels as if his life doesn't seem like it'll get much better than this. He's kind of poor, he's stuck with a frame-less bed that sits on the stale carpet, he's a Disney character at one of the biggest parks in the world, and still he doesn't get paid enough. His family's back in the UK and Louis can't afford to fly over to see them. He misses everyone dearly. He cries about it sometimes but he never admits it to anyone. He should be the happiest man in the world. Disneyland is one of the happiest place in the world, so it brings confusion as to why Louis feels like he's drowning in depression when he arrives home at half nine.

Is it even considered home? Isn't home meant to feel warming? Welcoming? Aren't you meant to feel safe and secure? Louis knows he's safe; he's five storeys above the city, but he doesn't feel completely safe in a sense his area's cold and chilling. Almost haunted like. 

He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in his briefs. He doesn't care to shower after a long day at work. He falls into his mattress and hides himself under the covers until the morning rises for another repeat of the same schedule he's been following for two years.

*

When Louis is stocking his small gift shop, he really doesn't expect the Mad Hatter to appear in front of him.

He's carrying boxes, so Louis supposes he's only here to drop off the rest of the Mickey Hands while the teacup ride remains unpopular. Harry sends him a smile through his make-up and ugly costume, but Louis smirks and watches as his eyes fall narrow.

"Looks like your attraction is not any body's cup of tea today," he puns cheekily. Harry rolls his eyes and lifts the box onto the counter easily, dusting his hands off without a blink of an eye to Louis. "I think it might be your costume."

"I don't see anyone coming to your stall, do I?"

"Calling yourself an inanimate object, I see," Louis laughs. "Don't worry, babe. I'm sure some people admire the crazy man from Alice in Wonderland. I'm sure there's some psychopaths who are exactly like you."

"Alright,  _babe,_  you listen here." Harry comes forward and makes sure he's close to Louis' ear. Louis swallows carefully when Harry speaks. "Cut this shit out, you're no Peter Pan in my eyes. You're a fucking twit. I know what you're like, and that's all you need to worry about."

Louis pulls back with a confident sneer splitting his face. "Really now?" Louis backfires. "Because I'm sure my existence to the world only occurs so I can impress the Mad Hatter who can't even get customers to his famous teacups." Harry storms away without a second look back, and Louis shouts out. "Bye, sweetheart!"

And of course Harry will take this as a fucking joke to be lame and rude, but Louis is really fucking in love with him and really wants to kiss him out of breath.

*

It seems as if the world is revelling on his side, because Harry is up and next to him the following day as well.

They both entered work at the same time, both in costumes and ready to start the day off. Signing in, Harry kindly waits behind him without a push, shove, or nasty comment. Louis flees his personal space to enter the park. Somehow, Harry's right beside him after a few steps forward.

Louis simpers to him, saying, "I don't like being next to someone who could bring my reputation down."

"I'm sure my presence will affect your infamous talent completely, Peter," Harry laughs menacingly. "Especially since the park is empty."

"Cast members exist, you know. Do you think we're the only ones alone in this world?" Louis questions, but Harry only looks to him and winks cheekily, showing off a sheepish grin afterwards. "Fuck you, leave me alone."

"Aw, c'mon," Harry frowns. "Time to play nice. I don't deserve this bullshit at 7 in the morning."

Louis freezes in the middle of main street and begins to hiss. "One, you're the one that walked up to me, and two, I don't deserve this bullshit from you, or anyone at any time of the day." Louis is about to storm off, but Harry catches his arm and pulls Peter Pan back. Louis snaps his wrist from Harry and glares at him viciously.

Harry chuckles. "Cute," he says. "Angry doesn't suit you, Peter."

"Ugly surely doesn't suit you, Princess."

"You're bitter," Harry laughs, jabbing his finger into Louis' collar bone. Louis bounces back at the contact. "Better run off. Don't want to be late for your zero fans."

Louis tries to refrain from rolling his eyes, but he can't help it when a teasing smirk sits on Harry's face and he's laughing at his own joke. He walks with him to Fantasyland without another word to him. Louis is so in love with him.

*

Eleanor's with him the next time the Mad Hatter makes a move.

They're standing on post, Eleanor holding Louis' hand as they speak to some children about Neverland. Louis had looked over at the wrong time. Harry's helping some boy out of the teacups and had caught direct eye contact with Louis. Louis isn't sure why he couldn't turn away.

But the boy winks and Louis is left gulping and jerking his head away from the teacups and focuses on the children speaking to Wendy. Once they run along with their parents, Eleanor glances to Louis and asks about his freeze up moment.

Louis obviously denies it. "What freeze up moment? There was no freeze up moment."

"Louis, the kids called your name three times and you didn't answer them. You were looking at those fucking teacups," Eleanor tells him. "Do something about it if you're that obsessed, Lou. Jesus Christ, it's painful just watching you fall harder for him each day."

"He keeps talking to me," Louis says. "I-I don't know if it's coincidental or not, but... he talks to me. A little. Like... it's banter and stuff but we talk--"

"That's good!" Eleanor encourages. "It means he's interested as well. Go for the kill! C'mon, it's not that bad if he says no."

"Are you for fucking real?" Louis snaps at her. "El, you know the reason why he hates me is because I humiliated him. I didn't let him get this job, and I made sure he couldn't get it afterwards. He'll humiliate me if he says no. He'll call me a poof. He's probably doesn't even swing that way."

"Then how are you ever going to find out?" She questions with bemusement. 

Louis thinks he knows. "He won't," he says confidently. "He won't find out."

"You're going to let your crush just fade away then?" Eleanor says. Louis probably shouldn't say yes. Eleanor's gazing at him with something that looks to be a vague expression of disappointment. Louis shrugs to her.

"Sure," he says whilst looking over to the teacups again, seeing Harry pick up a fallen child and cooing to him softly. Not  _sure._  Louis knows he'll  _never_  get over Harry.

*

He arrives at the cruise boat at seven, joining with Eleanor and taking a complimentary glass of wine from a bartender. Louis' co-workers are all laughing in their own little discrete groups. He sees Zayn walk everywhere, shaking hands with whoever he can, before he trots up to Louis and leans in for a bro hug.

They chat for a bit wondering what the entire meet up is about. There's nearly fifty people here. They're all relatively close to Jaxon, so Louis supposes this event might not be work related. He can see Jaxon and his girlfriend walking around arm in arm. They look dandy and bright. Maybe it's something like an engagement announcement... or something. Louis wouldn't be surprised.

Jaxon's wealthy, and any woman is open to a wealthy man. He's sure Natasha is around 30 years younger than the man, but Louis isn't one to judge. Love is love, even if it's money that holds the bond together.

Whilst Eleanor and Zayn are talking, Louis eyes a tall bloke with a blonde beside him. He's in a fancy white button up with a blazer over his shoulder. His hair's all nicely done up and wow, Louis has just realized he's never really seen Harry out of his uniform. His legs are superb in those black skinny jeans he's sporting. It makes them look endless. He's got really broad shoulders, how that Louis looks at him.  _Fuck,_  he's a stunning man. Louis is never going to get over him.

They collectively move onto the boat when it arrives and their trip down the Seine starts once they all sit at tables. Louis sits next to Eleanor and Zayn, another guy named Paul sits across from him. Entree is served and is just as horrible as it looked. Louis refused to eat the fresh salmon patty, only chewing on the baked dinner roll instead. Drinks are delivered to the tables and unlike the rest of the tables with wine, Louis goes for a simple beer instead. 

He feels out of place by the main meal. There's people laughing and dancing in the middle of the ship. Eleanor's missing in the crowd and Zayn looks as if he wants to join but knows Louis needs the company. Louis tells him not to let his mood affect his night, and that's all the confirmation Zayn needed to take a wine bottle and get lost into the middle of the dance floor. Louis sits and watches as the Seine passes under them. The sun's going down over the city and makes the sky look a peach pink. It's beautiful, really. Louis feels like he's the only one who can see it.

No one eats dessert but Louis, or so he thinks. It's not that great either, so no one is missing out on anything epic. He sits back and watches the rest of the sun disappear over the horizon and then he's left with nothing to look at than the drunken crowd forming in the middle of the boat. Everyone's having so much fun. He can see Eleanor laughing her head off and is dancing with Natasha hand in hand, and Zayn's got Liam and that Niall guy under each arm and is singing the Canadian national anthem. He can't see Harry anywhere. Maybe he's stuck in the middle making out with the girl who plays Elsa. 

He frowns hard when he thinks about that. He could hook up with someone and maybe get some for the first time in two years. Co-workers are awkward though. If he fucks about with Buzz Lightyear then he will more than definitely be fucked around like a toy, ironically. He's sure Harry would be good, but Harry hates him. Harry wouldn't even be up for a one-night stand or summat. Harry isn't even gay. Why does Harry always appear in his mind?

He's had enough when it hits nine. He stands up from his table and walks out of the humid room, exiting to the back of the boat where cool air passes by him. The water trails are visible from where he stands, leaning against the barrier of the boat and keeping himself up right. The city passes him; everything is dark. The sky's littered with clouds, a lightish grey from Paris' light pollution. Louis sighs and bends down to lean his elbows against the metal. He blinks and feels the cold chill over him.

Only a few minutes later, there's the sound of footsteps padding towards him and Louis supposes it's someone wanting to use the restroom. The man appears beside Louis and he's leaning against the pole supporting the upper deck above them both. Louis doesn't bother to look. He's probably going to have a smoke. Louis should move to the upper deck and leave him alone--

"You're terrible for leaving a great party, Peter." Louis sharply turns to the voice and glares at the pretty man with the blazer now covering his white button up. Louis rolls his eyes and faces the black water once again.

"I'm Louis after hours," Louis says. "As you are Harry after hours."

"Louis is a bit of a rotten name, don't you think?" 

"It's French," Louis tells. "If you're going to call your home country rotten, I might have to take you to the embassy for your derogatory words."

"If it'll send me back to the UK," Harry steps closer and places his hand on the barrier, "I'd be glad to get far away from you."

Louis glowers up to him and  _wow,_  his eyes are really pretty in this dim light. "You don't have to be so bitter. Why don't you go drink some wine or something? Loosen up and fuck someone. You're the Mad Hatter, do something crazy."

"I didn't even want to come to this party," Harry says. "I don't drink unless there's a special reason to."

"This is a special occasion. Jaxon invited all of us on here because of something," Louis hisses. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Harry frowning at him. Louis isn't sure why he's doing that. "Can you stop looking at me like that?"

Harry doesn't stop, instead he tries to get Louis to look at him. He firstly tries to bend his knees to look underneath, then he puts two fingers under his chin and tries to lift it. Louis snaps at him and coldly turns away. Louis doesn't want his attention today, but obviously Harry's not getting the message.

"Why are you upset?"

It's nothing he expected to come out of his awful, pink mouth. Harry probably doesn't even care about his depressed mood or his failure of a life. He's upset for many things, most of them being left behind at his miserable Chatelet Les Halles home.

"Like you care," he barks. "Like you'd even try and listen."

"You know," Harry starts, curling a hand around Louis' shoulder, "it's not nice to see someone think you don't care, when you actually do," he says softly. Louis gulps and twists his head slightly to see Harry's faint shadow in the corner of his eye. "I know something's wrong when you don't come back with shitty little banter comments like you usually do."

Louis breathes out carefully, unable to turn around and face Harry. He's in so much fear he'll confess how shit everything's been. His life looks perfect. Everyone thinks it is. Louis is always happy in front of everyone. Sad doesn't fit with the name Louis. Harry will give him neverending shit for being depressed. Harry will constantly hurt him for the payback Louis deserves.

"Just go have fun, Harry." Louis folds his arms over his chest and lets his head fall low. "You don't need to worry about me, yeah? Just go have fun."

His stomach twists uncomfortably when Harry removes his hand from his shoulder. Harry doesn't deserve to feel like shit because of Louis. Louis has already done that to him once. Harry's probably the happiest chap alive even though he's got the shittiest cast role. Sometimes, Louis thinks that he deserves Peter Pan, not because he worked so hard to get the role, but his life has fallen to pieces after acquiring it.

Louis almost collapses when he feels a hand touch at his right hip. It's a hesitant touch. The hold lingers for a bit, comes off, then the hand settles nicely just above Louis' waist line. Harry pulls himself in closer and Louis can feel the creep of his shadow upon him. Louis doesn't dare to turn and look if Harry's eyes are there. He's hoping the touch will remove itself soon.

"I'm not leaving until you're back to your punny self," Harry says into his ear. Louis keeps his stare to his feet, pleading for some answers to come into his head. He's sure his silence is just as deadly as some  _piss off_  comments. "Lou, c'mon, you don't have to be upset--"

"Don't call me that," Louis bites. "Just... don't... nicknames aren't a thing for me."

Harry squeezes at his hip. "Just trying to be a little nice."

"Don't be. We're not meant to be nice," Louis says sourly. "You shouldn't even be near me. Why are you even still here?" Louis grasps Harry's hand to rip it off from his hip, but Harry captures his hand before he could peel away from him altogether. Louis glares up to him. "Stop, seriously."

Harry respects it, so he releases the hand without comment. He doesn't even have a smirk on his face. Unusual. 

"I have nothing else to do, Louis, and looks like you don't either. If you want to talk to someone, you can talk to me. I'm literally right in front of you," Harry states. "I do care, Louis, if that's what you're worried about."

Louis' head is low again. He can't make eye contact with some guy who hates him. That's just it. Harry hates him. Harry doesn't actually care. He didn't think Harry lies but he does. Now he does.

"What're you so worried about, Lou?" Louis doesn't correct him for the nickname this time. Nicknames are nice. They're too nice. He doesn't want someone who hates him to use it on him. "C'mon, it's scaring me a little."

"You seriously don't need to worry--"

"But I do worry. You're always so perked up and up for a fight, but just... tonight you're telling me to go away and to forget about your feelings, and that's not the best thing to hear from you, if I'm honest," Harry says. "If I didn't care, do you think I would have stayed inside the cabin instead of coming out here to see what's wrong?"

Louis blinks up to him. "You followed me?"

"It isn't time for me to be answering questions," Harry says bluntly. "Is it... is it something to do with that Eleanor girl you're with?"

Louis scoffs and laughs a little. He shakes his head and looks to their feet. "She's not my girlfriend, if that's what you're implying."

"Oh," Harry mutters. "B-But like you know, there's nothing... like, she isn't making you feel bad or anything, is she?"

Harry's being suspicious. Louis can't help to feel seemingly tentative to what Harry's trying to get out of him.

"What are you trying to imply?"

Harry is a little taken aback. "I'm not... nothing! What do you mean?"

When Louis looks up, Harry's got his eyebrows in a knitted line and his face is glowing softly. He's still really beautiful. Louis hates knowing that this is how it is. They're meant to hate each other. Louis isn't meant to be in love with him. Harry shouldn't even be this close to him. Harry shouldn't be near him and trying to comfort him as so.

But it's happening.

Louis sighs once again and steers his gaze to the black water. Harry's still staring at him. Louis doesn't know why Harry's trying to stay. Louis knows he wants to leave and go party. Harry is such a liar.

"Look," Harry says suddenly. He reaches for Louis' hands, but grabs at his forearms instead. He holds them with his fingers wrapping around the entire circumference. "I-I know... we've been at each other's throats for a while, it's not hard to see that. You know, sometimes I look at you and think to myself that could have been me, like... if I tried hard enough I could have been the lovely Peter Pan that everyone adores."

Harry's just going to make him feel bad. He knew this was his intention. He's going to make Louis feel so much like shit he'll jump overboard and kill himself before tomorrow comes. He tries to stop listening, but Harry doesn't let him.

"But then I saw you after our first few days and I then knew that you were absolutely perfect for the job. I knew why they picked you for him. You fit the role, you always goof around with the kids, you always know how to make them smile, and you sometimes make me laugh too when I'm watching from a distance... like, not that I-I watch that often, but..." Louis glares up to him and the boy's blushing. Louis wants to laugh at how cute he is. Harry's cute, funny and he's still nothing less than fucking gorgeous. "I feel like sometimes I don't deserve your attention, even if you're throwing me off with some shitty banter you give me."

Louis blinks at him, slightly confused where all this love is coming from. Louis is hesitant to speak, and that's a good thing because Harry is speaking out further.

"You're so funny, like sometimes I just laugh at myself when something happens with you. Like that other day when you said ugly didn't suit me, I felt like that was pure genius. It's true too."  _Fuck no!_  Louis thinks,  _that isn't true._  "Everyone adores you, Louis. I mean everyone. I don't even exempt myself from that."

 _Okay,_  fucking backtrack a second. Harry admitted he doesn't hate him. He doesn't hate him. Not only that, he fucking adores him. Harry, in some way, likes Louis for who he is and doesn't hate him. Louis wants to burst out crying.

Instead, Louis smiles really wide. It's burning his cheeks and he feels as if his lips will split in the middle. He steps forward and slips his arms between Harry's and hugs around his torso, closing himself in with little to care that this is Harry Styles. He's never stepped forward and tried to make a move. He's hugging Harry. Harry's warm and cuddly and oh.  _Oh._

Harry's hugging him back with his head tucked in close to his neck and Louis has to lift himself up on his tip toes to get his chin over his shoulder. His eyes are screwed closed and his senses elsewhere are doubling. Harry's got a strong cologne on. It's sweet and suits Harry perfectly. He smells rich and proper. Louis wants to dig his nose into his neck and feel how soft his skin is. Harry's breathing softly, Louis can hear that quite well. He wonders if Harry could feel, or even hear, how hard Louis' heart is beating against his ribs. It's knocking to come out for Harry to take. He wants Harry to take his heart.

Oh no. Just--  _oh_  fuck no. His mouth is opening. He's going to pour out his heart. No,  _nope. Shit._  It's happening. "You're sweet," he starts, and Louis wants to shut himself up but he can't. Harry's holding him closer with the span of his hand across the small of his back and Louis is gripping at the back of his blazer so tightly. "You're really sweet."

"You're sweeter, Lou," Harry whispers back. "I really mean that. Sweeter than the cotton candy from the Beauty Castle."

That cotton candy is the sweetest. Wait, shit. What is Harry saying to him? What is he saying to Harry?  _No._  This isn't how the night is meant to go. Louis shouldn't be hugging him? What the fuck is he doing.

"I saw you on Thursday when you picked up that boy when he was hurt," Louis says. "And you were hugging him and kissing his forehead and telling him that the ride is over and that everything was okay." Louis nuzzles his nose into Harry's shoulder. "And then after that you skipped to the store with him to buy him a lollipop."

"I had to stop him from crying," Harry laughs against him, and Louis loves how he laughs. It vibrates through him and makes him feel so warm and content. "It's the rules."

Louis giggles and pulls at his blazer again. Harry's affection against him is making Louis mad. He doesn't miss the small circles Harry begins to draw by his spine. Louis shivers at the touch. He breathes in, Harry's scent filling his nose and encapsulating Louis into his trap of wonders and beauty. Harry's the eighth wonder of the world, Louis is sure, and he's in his arms and has been for the past two minutes and Louis kind of feels weird to know this is happening.

Harry's circles stop as he speaks. "Um, what are your plans for later?"

It's just a friendly gesture.  _Sure._  "Don't really have any like... I've got work tomorrow morning, so maybe an early night crash to bed," Louis says. "W-What are yours?"

"Kind of just want to go home to a movie," Harry mumbles. "Lonely night... and the like."

"Oh," Louis says, voice sounding paranoid. "Y-Yeah, same with me."

Harry's hands trail close to his belt line and he shifts slightly in Louis' arms. Louis props down from his tip toes, calves hurting from the position. He nudges his nose in Harry's collarbones instead. It's no different. Louis still feels content and adored. Harry adores him. Harry fucking adores him.

The door swings open and a drunken man appears. He charges towards the two and Harry rips them both apart. Louis wants to cry out and grab for him. It hurt, almost. But the man then throws his head over the barrier and vomits violently. Harry goes for the blonde man and pets his back, cooing to him and watching the man chuck his guts up.

Louis stands alone in the faded light, arms folded over his chest and his eyes frowning up to Harry. He's cold and lonely and miserable and fucking lonely. Harry looks up to him apologetically, his eyes soft and eyebrows high with concern. Louis mouth twitches with uncertainty and paranoia. So... the past half hour had been nothing. Louis knows that. Of course he knows that. It was just a hug. Harry's probably a little drunk, even.

The man groans and looks up to Harry. He begins sputtering out nonsense. 

"'ey, 'ey! Hazza, my buddy! Fuckin' ripped you are! C'mon, have a beer mate. I've had like one or two or twelve or summat--"

"Mate," Harry lifts the man up with two hands under his pits, "I think you need to calm down a little with the drinking." Harry glances back to Louis, who hasn't moved from his position. Harry glowers to him. "C'mon, we'll go up to the top deck until the boat stops."

Harry drags the man with him. Louis recognizes him as Niall. He's sure him and Harry live together, but maybe he's wrong since Harry said he was going to be alone tonight. What did that even mean? Maybe he wanted Louis to come with him--  _nah,_  that's stupid. For fuck's sake, Louis is stupid.

Before Harry takes Niall up the stairs, he looks back to Louis and mouths something to him that looked kind of like I'll talk to you later, and Louis nods softly to him. Louis waits downstairs for a bit, in some type of hope Harry would come back and hug him again, maybe kiss him a little for reassurance, but that miracle never comes. The boat stops at the platform and drunken people waddle off to their taxis. Louis waits behind, still in doubtless hope Harry would say goodbye to him.

His bus comes, and he takes it instead of waiting an extra half an hour for the next one. He travels home with Harry brainwashing his mind. As if his days aren't any different. Except, this time it kind of was. Harry hadn't touched him like that before. Harry hadn't been so close to him before. Louis pleads to himself that night, hugging his pillow tight, that tonight wasn't just a one off. He's pleading so much that he begins to cry.

Louis has fallen to a new low. He's crying over Harry Styles.

*

Work next day is just as awkward as thought.

By his post, he stares at the teacups. They're running smoothly with Harry by Alice in Wonderland, talking about some things which Louis is anticipating isn't things from last night. Harry seems to be having a good time today. He's laughing, he's got an amazing glow today. He looks as if he's just won the lottery. 

Harry's life must be so fucking good.

A gaggle of children crowd around him and Louis tells them a small story about magic. They ask about Tinkerbell and Louis brings them in close and whispers in each of their ears that she's gone off to do some special work in the magic shop. Little did they know she doesn't even exist here. The children giggle and touch the costume he's wearing before a photo is taken and they're running off to the Mad Hatter's Teacups, of all places.

Eleanor comes by an hour or two later looking very merry in her Wendy outfit. She's singing and dancing around in her night gown and falling into Louis' arms moments later. Louis catches her and laughs, kissing her forehead and looking straight back to the teacups where he fears Harry might be watching.

Eleanor has her hands under Louis' jaw and she's sharply twisting it to face her stern eyes. Louis gives a exasperated groan and rolls his eyes when he notices  _that_  look.

Louis bitterly whispers, "leave me alone."

"Oh c'mon, you're as worried as a mouse under attack," Eleanor tells him, petting his cheeks and frowning at the lovesick boy. "Talking to him will do you good. It's not like he would have forgotten about last night, Lou."

Louis exhales and faces the teacups again. He's been contemplating talking to Harry. Louis knows he wouldn't have forgotten about last night. Louis is afraid that Harry would have just played around with him because he was bored, or drunk, or something like that. That it's a joke that'll make Louis feel like shit. A joke that will bring a relentless amount of teasing because Louis would have actually thought Harry was a caring, beautiful man. Louis would have fallen into the gullible trap of Harry, and it's not like it's the first trap of Harry's he's fallen into.

"I-I don't," Louis stammers and glances to Eleanor again, "I don't think talking to him will help me right now."

So Eleanor leaves him be.

The day runs smoothly. Louis has a meet and greet with all the children and finishes the day off with the Disney parade. He's changing out of his costume just half an hour later, ready to walk to Marne-la-Vallee-Chessy to catch his bus back home. 

Grabbing his day bag and swinging it over his shoulder, he walks with the faint pitter patter of footsteps behind him. Louis ignores whoever's behind him. It's probably another co-worker he doesn't need to worry about. A small call of  _Lou_  halts him in his steps, but still he doesn't turn around to face the person.

The man catches up beside Louis anyway and he's beaming wide. Louis forces a smile out. So, Harry's next to him. He used that stupid, cutsy nickname too. Why. Why is Harry next to him. Why did Harry call out to him in the first place.  _Why._

"Hi," murmurs Louis. He shyly adjusts his fringe over his forehead, his toes moving inward like a pigeons. He's hoping Harry doesn't notice his flirty stance. 

"Hey," he says softly. "You walking to the train?"

Odd for him to ask, because he's sure Harry knows he takes the bus instead of the tube. He's never tried the night train, as a matter of a fact. He remembers the first time he arrived in Paris he took the tube in mid-day and that certainly wasn't the most pleasant experience.

"No," Louis tells him. "I usually take the bus. It's easier since it... it goes straight to my place, that's all."

"Oh. I thought you would have taken the train before mine," Harry says. "You live near Gard De Lyon, right?"

"Chatelet," Louis answers. "I-I think that's near Gard De Lyon--"

"Yeah, it's on the same train line." Harry smiles up to him and steps a few inches closer, bringing up a hand and resting it behind Louis' arm. "You should take it with me."

Louis blinks nervously and becomes tense. He knows Harry can feel him grow increasingly uncomfortable, and that's more than likely a good thing. Since when did they join each other with things? Since when did Harry come up to him like this and then request he take the same train as him back to Paris? Since when did Harry begin to talk to him like this, casually and freely, as if they were... friends?

"You know," Harry says shakily. "S-So I don't have to spend 45 minutes alone."

Louis thinks. Harry's the guy he cried over last night, thinking that what happened the night before was some sick joke. He's sure Harry's not drunk now. He'd probably be fired if he had snuck whiskey into the park. Harry's a dashing man, still smiling in front of him and Louis thinks he'll never ever get over his smile. Harry's a reassuring guy. Louis can't bring himself to think Harry would be doing all this as a joke. His smile is genuine. The glitter of his light green eyes are definitely not sadistic or sinister. They're sweet and intriguing.

Louis grins and nudges himself into Harry's touch. "Okay," he nods, "y-you need to take me there though. I'm clueless of where to go--"

"If you think I'm just going to make you close your eyes and count to ten then run away so you can find the train yourself, you'd have every right to kick me up in the crown jewels, Peter."

Louis giggles and bounces on the balls of his feet. "I could put some gum from under the benches in your hair." Louis uses this as an excuse to touch his curls and oh Jesus, it's luscious and soft and just as fluffy as he imagined it. "Would be a good accessory, I reckon."

Harry grins and chuckles lowly. "You like my hair, don't you?"

Louis snaps back in defence. "W-What?!" Louis barks uneasily. "I just... I'm... I'm proving a point."

"Not good to lie, Peter. You saw Pinocchio."

"Shut your ugly mouth before I shut it for you."

Harry smirks. "With what?"

"A lovely punch in the jaw, you twit," Louis laughs half-heartedly, still a tad bashful. "Sure you'd sport a lovely purple bruise on your cheek. It'd go well with your orange wig, and your bubble gum hair."

Harry rolls his eyes and steps forward again to settle his hand on Louis' back. "Love to banter, but we have a train to catch in five, unless you want to wait twenty minutes for the next line."

He watches how Harry's eyes soften, slightly squinted with his lips never losing that timid smile. Louis needs to stop looking at his lips, really. They're so pink and look so delicate, and all Louis needs to do is... kinda... reach up and...

They're walking with their arms brushing every so often, but neither comment on the contact. Harry takes them to the station and they jump onto the train when it arrives. The train is virtually empty, only a few odd people sitting on the seats with their attention drawn to absolutely nothing. Harry takes the seat next to Louis, and Louis has the biggest urge to squeeze in even closer and rest his temple on Harry's shoulder.

But he doesn't. He holds himself tight as the train passes through different areas within the 45 minutes. They don't really talk, much to Louis' disappointment. Harry makes small talk with him, however. At least he's trying. Louis hears the call for Gard De Lyon and he almost panics. He really didn't expect Harry to be leaving before him. Harry doesn't stand, however. Louis wants to remind him of his stop, but Harry seems well aware.

"I'm going to drop you off, so you don't get lost or anything," Harry says to him, and if that isn't the sweetest thing someone has done for Louis, then he wouldn't know what is. 

He does as told. Louis jumps off the train when they both arrive at Chatelet Les Halles and Harry doesn't let him be until they're both out of the underground and Louis figures out what part of the suburb he's in. Harry smiles to him and pulls him in for a quick hug, telling him to stay safe while walking about at this time of night.

Not as if Louis is going to get shot or something while walking around, but he graciously takes the advice and presses his hands harder against Harry's back. They part from each other and Harry takes the stairs back to the underground to get another train back to his place. Louis walks home with a smile lingering on his face.

It fades away when Louis walks inside his flat, however. He showers with no bother to wash himself with soap or shampoo his hair. He stands and looks at the tiles miserably. After exiting and wrapping himself up in a towel, he falls onto his bed and grabs his phone to message Eleanor.

He tells her about the interesting travel ride home and she only sends a dozen pedophile smiley faces back and a million more  _he fancies you!!!!_ 's back. Louis ignores the pity comments from the same girl who told him the nuggets from the cowboy place in Adventureland were absolutely disgusting, which is hardly the case, and focuses on his own mind for a bit.

 _This is only some type of phase_ , Louis thinks. Sometimes, Louis finds it hard to believe himself when he thinks that Harry might be indeed trying to make something work, and sometimes, Louis is just a really stupid Disney character who is kinda poor, kinda depressed, and very, very lonely.

*

He's shocked to know the next week is definitely not the same as the last. 

Harry is near him a lot now. He's sure he's spent more time talking to him than talking to Eleanor, actually. He takes the bus in the morning, meets Harry at the sign in, then talks to him for the half an hour they have before the park opens. The tube is for the night, where Harry meets him again after changing out of costumes and walks with him to the station.

He's learned a lot about the boy. He has a really shitty taste in music, or in other words, Harry doesn't have anything to do with The Fray on his iPhone. Louis listens to it anyhow. They don't bother trying to talk about anything personal on the tube, the passengers are horribe eavesdroppers. Harry is also very into taking pictures for memories, he quotes,  _you realize we're never going to get this time back, so I might as well take a photo and I can look back on it in a day, or a year's time and say, oh yes, we talked about turtle shapes on the way back home._

He's also come to find Harry is not a dickhead idiot, but an idiot in general.

But he's also sweet, and still as compassionate and lovely as he was on the Saturday night party. He walks Louis home now, all the way home. He drops him off at the elevator shaft and then leaves to take the underground back home. It takes an extra ten minutes out of Harry's time, which isn't completely necessary for him to waste, but Louis doesn't mind the company.

A week ago, Louis would have never thought he'd be hitting off with Harry as casually as this. He also would have never thought he'd be more in love with Harry. 

The same thing happens on the Tuesday night, as per usual to his new reformed schedule. Harry meets with him and walks to Marne-la-Vallee - Chessy and takes the train to Chatelet Les Halles. Harry's putting the headphone in Louis' ear this time around. The 45 minutes passes quickly and quietly, Michael Buble playing in both of their ears. They get off the train and walk back to Louis' flat, chatting about anything that pops up into their minds.

"What're the chances of you tripping over on this walk?" Louis asks him, almost 100% certain that Harry's going to gracefully stumble from his horrendously large feet having a mind of their own. Harry scoffs and, unsurprisingly, staggers over his boots. Louis snorts and covers his mouth when Harry tries to straighten himself and pretend that nothing had just happened. Harry blinks up to him and cocks up an eyebrow to the conspicuous boy giggling under his breath.

"What?" Harry simpers, gazing at Louis as if he's the most delusional boy in the world. Louis continues to giggle shyly.

"I feel like sometimes, you only do these things to make me laugh," Louis admits. "That, or you're really the clumsiest bastard I've ever met."

Harry scoffs and brushes his shoulders off. "Please," Harry says bluntly. "Everything I do is either gracious, or an accidental act of flawless beauty."

"Care to explain, or express what either means, young Harold?" Louis questions with a grin. "I've yet to see you do either of those, successfully."

"I'm as smooth as a fish."

"What are you, a stone fish?" Louis teases, lightly nudging Harry's bicep, which only causes the man to lose his footing yet again and grab Louis' wrist instinctively. Louis is pulled back and helps Harry stand on his uncoordinated feet, which he manages well. Once up, Louis steps forward in front of him and runs his hands over Harry's shoulders brushing them off for him. "My point has been proven."

"There wasn't a point to start with--"

"Pfft, okay," Louis snaps childishly, hands gliding down Harry's, toned and firm, chest. Louis needs to stop himself before he goes way too far. He doesn't want to ruin what he already has. He doesn't want to word vomit everything out of him. "The day you stop being clumsy, is the day I'll stop being a rude bastard to you."

"That day will never come."

"Exactly," Louis laughs, slapping his chest. "Exactly like the Mad Hatter, you are. Didn't know character roles rubbed off on your real selves."

"I'm sure Peter Pan is a cutie, so looks like you're an exception."

 _"Ah,_  but I'm admirable and I'm cheeky," Louis says. "And I'm cute. I'm hot! Don't be a fuck up!"

Harry chuckles warmly with his head thrown back. "I'm sure we've wasted five minutes of our time just with you telling me lies, Lou."

"Lies, ha," Louis barks, thwacking his chest again. "Your bitterness surprises me sometimes, Styles."

"It should, sweetheart," Harry says roughly and...  _shit._  "Like you said, I'm as smooth as a stone fish. I can bite and cause violent pain. I'm dangerous, deadly, even. I'm..." Louis is laughing so hard that the giggles echoes through the suburb. Harry's got his eyebrows in a furrowed knot when Louis looks at him through his teary eyes. "Hey! You have no right to laugh at me."

"Stop trying to sound evil," Louis continues to laugh, offending Harry a little more each time. It helps that Louis' laugh is a little sweet. "A cutie like you doesn't suit a villainous voice." Harry's smirk is growing bigger the more Louis breathes, and Louis pretends he had some control of what he said. "Yeah, I called you cute. Whatever."

"You're not getting a compliment back."

"Did I ask for one?"

Harry laughs scornfully. "You're as cold-hearted as the devil."

"I am the devil, Harry," Louis tells, prodding a finger into his left nipple. "I'm a hellish mastermind, let me tell you."

"Of course, kitten," Harry names, smacking away Louis' hand from his body. "C'mon, it's getting chilly out. Gotta head home."

They walk the rest of the way back, it takes them no less than three minutes. Harry ambles beside him to the elevator inside and presses the button for Louis. Louis pinches his bicep in return for the favour and Harry only hisses a  _fuck you_  in response. Louis laughs gingerly.

The two doors open and Louis stands in front of Harry to hug him goodbye. Harry reaches forward and envelops him in, firmly grasping Louis and digging his head into his neck. Louis will never get over his hugs. He's so warm and friendly and,  _oh,_  this time his nose is pecking softly against him and there's a slight wetness being left behind, he feels, when Harry breathes over it.

Oh.  _Oh,_  that isn't his nose.

His hand's clutching hard at Harry's shirt when he realizes, and it draws Harry up from his neck and he's gazing down with a worried look. Louis grins to remove Harry hesitation and pushes himself on his tip toes to lock their lips together and, what the  _fuck_  is he doing.

A little surprised in his own confident actions, Louis doesn't move his mouth, but he feels Harry kissing back just as freely as their conversations. Louis has his hands at the front of his chest now, pawing at his shirt to bring him closer. Harry's not pulling away. He's  _not_  pulling away. He's kissing Louis back.  _Oh my God._

He pulls away first, so stunned that Louis wants to apologize, run away and hide himself away forever, but Harry's reaching back for him and kisses him again like one of those childish you have germs type of thing. Harry's even blushing like a giggly school girl, and Louis just has to kiss him again.

So he does, because there isn't anything holding him back now. He kisses him over and over, just small pecks but they're full of blazing bush fires that are wildly out of control. It's how the next five minutes happen. They're mad. Louis is pulling at Harry's hair when they start to open their mouths and let their tongues glide. Harry's got his hands spread over his hips and he's helping Louis up on his toes. Their breaths are hot between them. Louis is losing his very quickly, but he can't stop kissing him. He's in a desperate need to get all he wants from Harry. His mouth is wet and sticky and probably so very red from Harry biting and pulling every so often. He doesn't know how he managed to step into the elevator with Harry, but the doors are closed and Harry's got him up against the wall with his mouth attached to his neck and his teeth sinking into his precious skin. 

Louis gasps out when pain overrides him. Harry's biting harshly, causing Louis to scratch his hands down his rigid back. He's securing a leg around his thigh and pressing Harry's body closer to him. He needs Harry's body. Just so much Harry. He needs Harry to hug him and hold him and kiss him all over. He needs Harry to touch him and litter his body with a million love bites. To mark him. He fucking needs Harry.

Harry's hands are still on his hips and Louis can feel every bit of heat come from them. From his fingers, from the palms, and Harry's digging the tips into his soft skin and the nail prints are coming through. Harry's back at his mouth and licking hotly into it, colliding everything together and letting their teeth click messily. Louis can't help himself but moan a little, and it brings Harry to breathe out and groan onto Louis' cheeks. He hisses out a  _fuck_  against him and the doors ding open to the corridor of his flat.

Louis grabs Harry's wrist and has his finger nails digging deep into his skin, pulling him down the hall. They're at his flat, and Louis fumbles with his keys frantically and panics slightly when he can't find the right key. Harry's got an arm around him, hand settling on his waist, and he's encouraging Louis with soft sweet nothings and tender kisses on his temple. Louis manages to open the door and slams it shut when Harry's inside. He throws his keys somewhere and doesn't do a double take to try and find them. Harry forces him up the wall and doesn't leave their mouths apart for another second.

Their shirts are off within a couple of minutes and Louis runs his hands down Harry's body and fuck, just...  _fuck._  Harry's so fucking fit. He never could have imagined a six pack underneath that horrible, ugly costume. He's got V-lines and Louis wants to devour his teeth into those. Harry whispers about how cute Louis looks, even with his face hot with blush and sweat. His hair has been teased into a mess, strands sticking to his forehead, but Harry still doesn't fucking mind and Jesus fucking Christ, he's snogging Harry, out of all things.

He jumps with his legs tight around Harry's waist and Harry is also really fucking strong. A way to find out a new fact about him. He has his hands spread across his arse and is supporting him as if he was a feather. He's kissing Louis with so much tongue that Louis forgets how to breathe. Louis hasn't felt this blissful in years. He's sighing contently by the time Harry lets him fall to the bed. It's a wee bit embarrassing, only having a mattress on the floor, but who even gives a shit at this point. Harry certainly doesn't.

He's between his legs and has his mouth over his collarbones, sucking lovebites into those as if no one cares. Louis cards his hands through Harry's hair and keeps them locked in, pulling harshly when Harry rocks his hips up into him. He's not holding his moans back now. They're slipping out as easily as his breath. He's stringing out a line of profanities, his curse words only encouraging Harry to roll himself in faster and deeper against the fabric of their jeans. Louis is going to come in his jeans in under a minute at this point. It's fucking shameful. He hasn't fucked with anyone in so long. He needs to get himself together and--

 _Nope._  "F-Fuck,  _please,"_  he cries out. "Oh, Jesus-- shit. I-I--"

Harry rips through his fly and does everything to hurry the process. Louis jeans are off and he's left in his briefs, shamefully hard and incredibly exposed. Harry kissing his cock through his briefs, lips wrapped around them and his teasing tongue jabbing against it. Louis curls his toes and fists his hands into the pillow underneath him, pulling at every soft thing he could to rid the libido to come early. He's doing everything he can. He's surprised that he hasn't fucked himself over yet.

Harry looks up to him and shoves a hand under the elastic, whispering through that deadly smirk of his. "I'm gonna fuck that pretty arse of yours." Louis whines and arches his back in lust.  _Fuck,_  Harry's so fucking hot. He's never going to get his head around that. "Gonna show you how dangerous I am, baby."

Louis nods in submission, a little whine slipping from his lips again and Harry kisses him to shut him up. He jerks him off quick and fast with a slick hand from pre-come, and Harry keeps his mouth over his nipple, kitten licking over it and feeding off Louis' moans.

He fucks him so hard into the cheap mattress that Louis is sure some of the springs are broken. Harry's a fucking legend. Louis has never come three times in a row in his life, but now he can add that to his bucket list. He is... he is incredible. Louis is sure they went until one in the morning, he honestly too fucked to care. His blankets are come stained and his hair is thick from sweat. 

When Louis wakes up in the morning, he's alone. His bed is cold and Louis sits up with his bum in a bit of pain. He's got a day off in his favour, maybe Harry could come over and fuck him over the counter, or in the shower. 

But he did a bad thing. A very bad thing. Not only that he and Harry didn't talk about this, but is 99% sure that they didn't use protection. Louis can't see any condom wrappers anywhere. He can't even see lube thrown around anywhere. So that probably explains why Louis arse feels like the devil is lighting up blunts in there. Louis is up and in the shower scrubbing himself clean, the feeling of guilt eating him alive. He can't feel anymore dirty. After the shower, he still feels unclean.

So he's having breakfast when he has come to terms with himself. He had sex with Harry. Harry fucked him. Harry, the boy who hated him for two years, and had only started to talk to him no less than two weeks ago, had just fucking had sex with him.

He calls Eleanor. He doesn't even think about doing anything else. He calls Eleanor and tries his best to be subtle about it. She answers with a  _hello!_  sounding so merry and content and oh Lord, Louis is about to cry from how much guilt he's feeling. She knows something's wrong. Eleanor's asking him constantly and Louis isn't answering. He needs to put it in a way where it doesn't sound horrible, and kind of like a fling.

"I had sex with Harry and I don't know what to do about it." He often fails at so much, but this one time he didn't want to fail, he does. Louis slams his head on the table and cries hard. 

Eleanor isn't even speaking and Louis almost thinks the poor, innocent girl had hung up on him. He sputters out apologies and sobs harder to himself. He's never felt so paranoid about something in his life. This is worse that telling Harry he loves him, and getting a shitty reply back. This is worse than tripping in front of Harry and being laughed at. This is worse than Harry getting payback on him after two fucking years.

"Louis," she speaks. Louis hiccups and whines softly into his hand, biting at his knuckles and keeping his ears open. "Love, what are you so stressed about? That's good if Harry's into you, you know? He wouldn't have done that unless he finds you attractive, somewhat."

Louis blinks away the salt water from his eyelashes and bites harder into his hand. "I-I feel like he... he might only want casual... casual sex or something," Louis mutters. "El, I don't know what happened. He just started... he kissed me and then I brought him to my room and... and he just--"

"See, he kissed you!" Eleanor chirps. Louis swallows the knot in his throat and continues to listen. "How about you talk to him about it? Maybe he's feeling the exact same as you now and is talking to tha blonde friend of his now. You both have work tomorrow, so without a doubt you'll see each other. Harry will probably want to talk to you about it. He's sweet. He'll talk it out."

"Do you think he'll understand?" Louis asks her. "I-I don't... I don't know how to confront him with everything. I wish he stayed the night--"

"He didn't even stay the night?"

Her tone sounds passive. Louis begins to worry. "Is that a bad thing?"

Eleanor doesn't answer for the first couple of seconds. "Look, don't worry about what I have to say, alright. All that matters is that you're okay, right? You're alright?" Eleanor questions. Louis says a weak yes. "He didn't hurt you or anything? Didn't force you to have sex with him?"

"It was mutual, El," Louis reassures. "He... it was the opposite of hurt--"

"Alright," Eleanor cheers, probably smiling like a dandy little flower on the other side. "I better go now honey. I'm meant to be on my morning break so, not to sound like a bother, but I'd rather spend my time eating rather than talking."

Louis chuckles and whispers, "alright." Eleanor says a quick _love you_ , and Louis responds similarly, hanging up the phone moments later and letting his head smack against the table again. Everything is a pain in the arse for him, and he really wishes it was Harry's cock instead of his life fucking him over.

*

Louis is too frightened to confront Harry the next day, so he avoids him as much as possible.

But as all things, Louis has trouble with things going his way. When he's serving a little girl some mickey ears, Harry comes up to him with no package in his hands, or any type of thing to look like he's going to talk about something work related. She runs off to her parents and Louis really wishes she'd come back and maybe distract Harry from talking to him.

Louis shows off a weak smile. He's sure his mouth is kinda lopsided. His eye is probably twitching too. Harry steps forward and rests his hands on the counter, staring at Louis for a bit and chewing his lip between his teeth. The awkwardness is so intense. Louis wants to kill it with his bare hands.

"Look," Harry whispers. "What happened the other night I... isn't something I really want to forget about, Lou."

It's something Louis doesn't want to forget. Like hell he'd be able to forget it anyway. He can still feel Harry throbbing in his arse for fuck's sake.

He nods nervously. "Me too," he looks at Harry straight in the eyes and nods again, "I'm just... I-I didn't really want to talk about... about this here, if you know--"

"Oh," Harry says hastily. "Yes, yes. I understand, I-I... yeah."

Louis laughs shakily and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't think he can take Harry seriously in that costume of his. At least he knows what's underneath all that shocking make up and terrible wig.

"Did you... do you want to talk about it later?" Louis asks. "On the train, you know? We don't need to talk about it verbally. Like... maybe over messenger or summat--"

"Yeah, perfect." Harry sends him a thumbs up and nods. Louis feels so uncomfortable. The constant silence is eery and sounds scratchy. Louis shifts his weight from one leg to the other and sucks in a breath through his closed smile. "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah," Louis says. "Will do."

He waves Harry off, in slight hope that maybe the boy would trip to make him laugh. But none of that happens and Louis is left to stand alone in his stall for the next six hours.

*

Louis wakes up the next morning alone and cold. It's not like he expected to not be either of those, but he had wished for some type of miracle that Harry would have stayed the night. He showers and eats breakfast before taking the bus to work. He's not really anything today; mood wise, that is. He feels neutral. He doesn't feel depressed about his shit home and shit lifestyle and shit job, but neither is he contented that Harry had, once again, slept with him.

Okay, so it's not that obvious to Louis that Harry is trying to make a habit out of this. Not that it's a nasty habit or anything. It's not even considered a habit. It's only twice. Do flings happen more than once? 

Maybe Louis shouldn't be so worried about the habit, or the fact that Harry might be using him for some devious plan of his. He should really start worrying about why they're not using protection. Even that isn't one of Louis' biggest concerns. It's only twice. He's sure Harry's clean. He's hot enough to be clean. That's not a good view point Louis should be taking, honestly.

Work today is the same. Louis avoids Harry and powers through his job as if he's going to go home to a million dicks that night. Eleanor asked him about Harry a number of times, but Louis evaded himself from the plenty of questions with out of the book excuses. It gets him through the day. He changes out of his costume and meets with Harry to catch the train home.

An hour later, and an uneventful walk home, they're both naked in Louis' flat with Harry kissing down Louis' sternum. Louis softly coos the encouragement Harry needs and bucks his hips up to earn crotch to chest contact. Within a couple of minutes, Harry's slicking himself up with some lube he says he had "conveniently" in his back pocket and shoves two fingers into Louis to work him open. Louis groans and seethes, but manages to let out a sharp warning to Harry.

"W-We need," he pauses to groan loudly when Harry jabs him right in that spot. He never fails to miss it. "We really need to talk about something."

Harry slides his fingers out and cleans them on the dirty mattress. He wraps a hand around himself and tugs hard. "Talk about what?"

"Just... this," Louis breathes, shifting himself on the bed and spreading his legs open further. "W-We need some ground rules, just so... you know, no one gets hurt."

He can see Harry's face contort into a muddle of confusion, but he's nodding. Louis isn't stupid enough to let this one slide. He needs to be serious, and the only time Harry's going to listen to him is if they're fucking.

He's on him in a second flat, kissing Louis chastely and whispering, "you know I'd never hurt you, babe."

Before Louis could answer back, Harry's guiding his cock in and Louis' legs curl instinctively around Harry's hips. He groans loudly, head pushed back with his nose flared. His eyes are screwed closed with pleasure, and Harry bottoms out with a small thrust to make Louis go mental.

"C-Can... can you listen to me, please?" Louis asks sharply. Harry's glaring down at him, bemused. "Please. I-I... It's really important."

Harry doesn't move his hips. He respects Louis a lot more than Louis supposes. He bends down to kiss him instead and to lean on his forearms beside Louis' head to talk. Even if there's a cock inside him, there's still time to talk.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

Louis giggles and brushes his hand across the top of Harry's forehead, wiping away a few loose strands of hair. "If we're going to do this, we need to really talk to each other, if you know what I mean."

Harry cocks up an eyebrow. "If we're going to do what?"

"Don't," Louis barks. "Don't play dumb with me, Harry. Y-You know what I'm talking about--"

"No, seriously," Harry speaks roughly. He groans loudly and kisses between Louis' eyebrows. Louis is starting to become a little needy for some movement. "What do you mean?"

"If we're going to... you know," Louis swallows uncomfortably and gazes off to the left, unable to make full eye contact with Harry. "If we're going to be friends with benefits, or something."

Harry blinks at him. "Do you want to be that?"

"I-I," Louis stutters his hips up and moans noisily.  _"Fuck,_  yeah. I-I didn't know if... if this was going to be like something like a booty call or casual sex--"

"Friends with benefits is kinda like that, Lou," Harry states. "You know, I don't mind if you want to stop this or anything--"

"Fuck, no!" Louis hisses. "Jesus Christ, I just..." Louis can't even finish his sentence. He's edging so much. He needs Harry to give it to him, hard. Make him feel it for the next month.

"Do you want to talk about it later?"

"Y-Yeah," Louis stammers. "Shit, I need you."

Harry gives him what he wants and it's not different that the other nights. He's still incredible at touching Louis up in all the right places and fucking him to the point where Louis can see stars. He comes onto Louis' stomach and jerks off his high before rolling beside him and staring at the ceiling. Louis is still whining beside him, his breath wheezy and lagged. 

Harry speaks first. "So," and it earns Louis' attention despite him about to go into some form of cardiac arrest, "rules."

Harry's pretty and has a little bit of Louis' come by his mouth. Louis rolls to his side and leans on his elbow, wiping his bitten red lips with the pad of his thumb. Harry hums and kisses Louis' hand before speaking about the rules again.

"Yes," Louis nods, "rules."

They're staring happily at each other for a while, unable to speak with the aura of hot sex still somewhat choking them. Louis doesn't mind the silence however. But he really needs to talk to Harry about their constant use of unprotected sex.

"You're not sleeping around with anyone else, are you?" Louis asks him bluntly. Harry looks alarmed.

"Of course not, Lou," Harry whispers. "Why would you think... do you think I'd do something like that?"

"No, I-I just needed to know since we..." He trails off into a sigh. He's hoping Harry would catch on like a smart bastard, but Harry is as much of an idiot as Louis knows. "Since we don't use protection... and stuff."

Harry exhales out sharply and nods in realization. "Are you comfortable with... not using protection?" Harry questions him. He interrupts Louis before he could say anything. "I-I mean, we can if you want to. I'm not one to put it off. If you're cautious or anything--"

"I'm not a big fan of not using anything, just because, you know, we're probably going to be sleeping with plenty more people in our lives and the last thing I want for you and me is to be positive for something."

"I know, Lou," Harry smiles, shuffling forward to grab the sheet and wrap it over the both of them. "I promise you I'm clean though. I went to the clinic last month. I haven't slept with anyone since my high school graduation."

 _Jesus fucking Christ._  "How long ago was that?"

Harry shrugs and answers, "around five years ago."

"Oh, wow!" Louis exclaims, stunned. "How did you... Christ, five years? I don't even think I could have lasted that long."

Harry doesn't look to be too bothered by the time. "I just wait around for the people I really want to spend my time with."  _Oh shit,_  Louis' heart is melting so quickly. "And you know, sexy people like you."

"Petty compliments aren't going to get you anywhere, Harold."

Harry laughs and forces Louis into a hug, joining their sticky stomachs together and kissing messily on the come soiled mattress. They talk more about a safeword between their kisses, and the use of names during sex. It's not like Louis moans Harry's name when they're fucking about, but Harry tells him that the use of proper names could create lots of passionate chemistry, as he once read. He only wants the casual sex with Louis, and as much as that upsets Louis, Louis has to agree with it.

He might as well take what he can get.

It's a late two in the morning and Louis supposes Harry should run off now and catch the train back home, but they're still kissing and touching each other as if tomorrow never came. They're both hard again, Louis notices, so he straddles across Harry's stomach and pins his wrists above his obnoxious curls and smothers him with a smooch full of tongue. He can feel Harry's dick pricking up against his arse, and both of them laugh.

Louis lifts himself up and stares down at his beautiful fuck mate. "Think I could ride your cock silly until the sun rises?"

Harry smirks and jumps his hands to Louis' hips, rubbing his thumbs into the bone. "We don't have work in the morning," Harry reminds them both. "Wanna see you try."

Louis purrs and accepts the challenge with a kiss to Harry's lips.

*

It's four months later, and the rambling from Louis still hasn't slowed down.

"He calls me pretty a lot," Louis babbles. "He does this thing with his hips and, oh God, El. It's like magic when he does it. He's like my little princess. I could go on for hours with him and I'd still be mesmerized. Did I mention that we fucked all day yesterday?"

"Yes, Lou," Eleanor says, her tone bored and lazy. "You've told me over the phone last night, and told me twice just five minutes ago."

Louis giggles and spins around on his tiptoes, catching his hat on his head and adjusting it to its norm. "He's so lovely, El. He wants to try this thing with me tonight and he told me it was a little surprise for me. He's been planning it for weeks, apparently. I'm so excited to see him--"

"Lou," Eleanor interrupts. "Are you... you guys are doing it safe, right?"

Louis nods vivaciously. "Of course, El. I told you we discussed things. It's been four months and we're not dead."

"I know, but you're telling me about a lot of things that you're doing and..." Eleanor trails off and shakes her head, dropping her wrap down to her lap. "I'm a bit worried you're not doing anything safely."

"He's not a barbarian, El. He knows what he's doing," Louis reassures. "I promise. He always goes through things with me before trying out anything. We have a safe word, we have discussions. Just because he doesn't stay over, doesn't mean we don't talk."

He can see Eleanor's worried gaze. She's definitely not convinced. "Just remember that safety matters first, and if Harry is ever going to pressure you into something that you don't like doing, you can come to me and I'll get Max to sort him out--"

"El," Louis drones. "Harry's sweet. You know that."

She nods and chews on her salad wrap without another word. Louis thinks she's overreacting a little. So they want to do a bit of kink in their sex life, it's not like Louis is ever going to get a chance to kink up his love when he's older. He doesn't think the play is excessive. Like he said, he uses a safe word. Harry doesn't forget about the safeword when he's smacking him silly, or when he's cutting off Louis' breath slightly. Louis fucking loves Harry man handling him.

It shouldn't affect Eleanor as such. Eleanor shouldn't really care. Louis knows he and Harry are safe. They're still together and enjoying each other's company. Harry hasn't slept around with anyone else, and Louis surely hasn't bothered to find someone else better. Not like there's anyone else better on the market anyhow.

Louis is still in love with him. Maybe even more in love with him. 

The train that night is quiet, but that's certainly not going to be the case then they get home. Harry's down on his knees ready to dive into Louis' jeans but Louis stops him. Harry gleams up and asks if Louis was okay.

Louis shakes his head, and... well, that's a first. Harry stands and rests his hands on Louis' shoulders, questioning him.

"Is there... is there something bothering you?" Louis can't look him in the eye. There's not really anything wrong. Louis just doesn't feel in the mood tonight. He doesn't want to throw Harry out and not give him what he wants, however. Because that's all this is, right? Just a fuck night, as it has been for four months. Harry only cares about the sex. "Lou, what's wrong?"

Louis swallows down his problems and forces out a smile, slipping off his shirt and blinking to Harry. "Nothing, baby," Louis whispers, resting his palms on Harry's chest. "C'mon, I want you."

But nope, Harry grasps Louis' wrists and pulls them down. His eyes are soft, but concerned. His mouth is weak in a frown. He's keeping his glare on Louis. If Louis is honest, he doesn't like this. He doesn't want this. He wants to get this night over and done with so he can kick Harry out and sleep tight with his pillow and cry.

"Lou," Harry whispers back. "I'm not an idiot."

"Neither am I," Louis argues. "Harry, c'mon. I really... c'mon, you need to suck me off or something--"

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me what's wrong."

Louis glowers. "There's nothing wrong."

"Stop thinking I'm an idiot, Louis," snaps Harry. "I'm worried, babe. I'm not going to do anything if you're not in the mood for it, sweetheart. I can tell you're upset. I'm here, you know? You can tell me, talk to me."

His fingers slip between the gaps and Louis knows this. This happens when Harry wants to hold him and never let go; usually a position they undertake while Louis is on top. But Louis is definitely not on top with this situation, funnily enough. Harry's not going to let go. Harry's not going to leave until Louis gives him what he wants, and that, apparently, is a reason for why he's worried.

Louis doesn't know why he's worried, so how is he going to answer? Louis doesn't think lying is the way to go, but then again, saying the poor truth about his shit income, shit home and shit lifestyle isn't going to sound any better. He's definitely not going to mention anything about loving Harry for two years and unable to do anything about it. Nope. No. He's never, ever going to say that to him. He's not going to mention the fact that Eleanor is stressing about their sex life, because Eleanor shouldn't even know. Harry's going to think he's telling everyone he's slept with him. He's hoping Harry hasn't told anyone. Although, there's never been a discussion about keeping this a secret.

He's hesitant to answer, and Harry begins to panic slightly. It's heard shaking through his voice. "Y-You're not... you're not thinking about stopping this, are you?"

Louis stares bewildered. "No, Harry!"

"Then what's wrong, Lou?" Harry asks. "Is it something I'm doing? Is it something that's going on in your life? Are you worried about that protection thing still? Are you... do you want to talk about what's happening now or--"

"None of that... no." Louis shakes his head and sighs. "I'm just not really up for much tonight."

Harry frowns at him, and Louis thinks it's because he's not getting what he originally wanted. But Harry takes him and his hands to the bed, where he falls on the mattress with their hands still latched together. Louis stands in front of Harry, who's sat with his eyes peering up to the sad boy.

"C'mon," Harry says, spreading his legs out a little to vacate a spot for Louis. "Sit."

A little confused, Louis is, but he sits after undoing their hands. Harry's arms are around him in an instant, hugging him tight. Harry's chest is warm against his back, so is Harry's lips on the top of his spine. Louis smiles and tilts his head down to watch Harry's hands tap lightly against Louis' stomach. Harry's soon humming softly, a little unknown tune that's sweet and calming. Louis sits with the butterflies endlessly fluttering in his stomach. He wonders if Harry can feel them.

Harry kisses the back of his neck once more before whispering. "You know, you can tell me anything, Lou."

"I know," Louis clarifies. "I trust you."

Harry kisses his shoulder and keeps his chin resting on top of the bone. "I trust you too."

A few more silent minutes, and Louis thinks he might be ready to enjoy another round of hardcore sex. This is nice though. Just the feeling of someone secure. Something secure. Something warm and secure and safe and... someone that's... like home.

No. Harry's not home. Harry isn't anything at all. Harry's just a fuck buddy. Harry's just there to fuck around with him. It's nothing. Nothing at all. Harry might care some, but he's not going to be some Nanny McPhee and change his fucking life. 

Louis spins in Harry's lap and has his legs over his thighs quickly. He smiles to the pretty young boy and kisses his mouth short and sharp. 

"I wanna ride you," Louis whispers to him, as if the words are any more taboo than any dirty phrase they've shouted. Harry groans softly and nods to Louis. Louis is about to push him down and let him do the dirty work, but Harry's getting up from the bed and grabbing his day pack to bring near the bed.

Harry pulls out something--  _no,_  a few things from his bag. All of them absolutely jaw dropping. Even the grape lube. "Got a few surprises for us."

Louis doesn't know where the fuck the boy managed to get a hand on lace panties, or even a black collar with a pretty heart on it - with a fucking engraving in it that says  _Lou._  A few more little pretty hand cuffs and a permanent marker. Oh, Louis doesn't know what the fuck that's for.

So they're prepped within a few minutes, Louis sucking Harry off harder than ever before. Louis really wants to please him. Harry deserves to be pleased. He's up on all fours before Harry's licking him out like a hungry whore, squeezing his smooth arse and slapping the right cheek a couple of times for good measure. Louis loves it when he plays rough. Harry does it so well.

Harry tells Louis to stay on all fours while he grabs something. Soon enough, Louis is resting with his cheek against the bed and his hands handcuffed behind his back. There's a soft press of a kiss to Louis' bum cheeks before there's a tickling sensation on his left. Louis tries to see what it is, but Harry forces his head forward to stop him from viewing Harry's masterpiece.

By the time Harry helps him up and he's hovering over Harry's dick, the opposite way to normal, Louis is begging for it.

"Guess what I wrote on your arse, sweetheart?" Harry growls, hammering upwards to shove his cock into Louis' hole. Louis groans and pulls his wrists on the handcuffs, throwing his head back in ecstasy and letting himself adjust. Like he ever will become adjusted to Harry.  _Ha._  "Cockslut. Wrote it right across your pretty little bum."

Louis moans blissfully and rolls his hips gingerly. "Fuck you."

"Don't be rude to me, babycakes," Harry whispers, hands settling on his hips. "So pretty for me. You're a slut, aren't you?"

"Yes," he hisses, beginning to lever himself at a steady pace with the deadly struggle of not being able to use his hands. "Yes,  _ah._  Only for you."

"My little minx, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes," Louis moans. "F-Fuck, please."

By twelve that night, Louis feels so overwhelmed by Harry's dominance that he crashes into a sleep right after his orgasm. He dreams of sweet things like lollies, little kids, Harry, cotton candy, Harry and lots more of Harry. He wakes with the blankets up to his chin and the feel of a pillow, softer than normal, underneath him. His legs are tangled with something, and his nose feels much warmer than usual.

He opens his eyes and blinks to adjust to the light. He notices the sweet boy still sound asleep with his hair wispy over his forehead and his lips parted open slightly. He then realizes that it's probably seven in the morning, meaning Harry had stayed the night with him.

Harry had stayed the night with him.

This never happens. Never ever does this happen, unless, of course, they're fucking well into the morning. But this isn't fucking. This isn't anything but actually  _sleeping_  together in each other's reach. Louis was  _cuddling_  him. Harry was  _holding_  him in his sleep. What the  _fuck._

No, no. Harry needs to get out. Harry can't stay any longer. No. This is against the rules. It's fuck and get out. Not fuck and stay over and cuddle your fuck buddy in your sleep. No.

"Oi," Louis snarls, flicking Harry's nipple to wake the dickhead up. Harry muffles something through his throat, but doesn't wake up. "Fucking hell, Harry, fucking get up!"

"W-Wuh," Harry moans unhappily. "Lou, let me sleep--"

"No, fucking get the train home and sleep. You're not staying--" Louis is shut up with Harry rolling over and closing the smaller boy in with an arm around his waist, making Louis collapse into the bed. "Harry!"

"Stop with your t'ings, man," Harry whispers. "Sleep."

"H-Harry, we didn't agree to this."

"Agree to what? I'm just sleeping--"

"You've stayed the night," Louis states the obvious, but Harry's got no intention to move. "Harry!"

"For fuck's sake," Harry barks, sitting up in bed and opening his sleepy eyes. Louis is watching him, or more so his lovely body. He's still naked underneath the sheets, the both of them are. Louis really wants to lick cream off his body and ride him backwards again. But-- "What's the problem with me staying here, Lou? I used to stay here all the time--"

"That's when we fucked, H."

"Is this any different? We certainly fucked last night," Harry reminds, but then he smirks and  leans back on his arm coolly. "Unless, I fucked you well out of your memory--"

"Shut up, I don't have amnesia," Louis snaps. "No, you... friends with benefits never do this, Harry. You don't stay the night. You get out of my house the moment you've finished. No cuddling, no sweet, romantic bullshit like that."

Harry frowns unhappily. "Well, we made our own rules, so can't we just remove that rule?"

"Harry," Louis speaks sternly. "I... none of this romantic cuddling, none of this staying over. I-I don't want you to become attached--"

"What?" Harry bemuses, head tilting slightly in uncertainty. "What do you mean I'll become attached?"

Louis runs his tongue over his bottom lip and faces away from Harry's skeptical eyes. "I-I just... I think maybe you might... like you might want something more or something like that," Louis assumes. "Like, if you're going to put so much effort into spending time with me--"

"I just wanted to sleep," Harry pronounces bluntly.

"Still, we didn't agree to this. I don't want something to happen and then you'd become all clingy on me for all the wrong reasons."

"And you won't?" Harry asks. "You're putting all the blame on me here. What if it's you that becomes attached? Don't assume the impossible, Louis, because I'm not going to get attached any time soon."

Louis shouldn't take offence to that, but he does. "You're coming to my house every night, fucking me raw into the mattress, and you're expecting me to agree to the fact you want to sleep the night, even though there's rules that apply that fuck mates don't stay over. You're expecting me to see that as a non-attachment phase?"

"For fuck's sake, Louis. I just wanted to sleep! I was fucking tired last night. I would have tripped down the stairs to the tube!"

"You managed to do it every single other night for four months," Louis snaps. "What's the difference to last night?"

"I'm not getting attached to you, Louis."

Louis scoffs in disbelief. "Alright, whatever." He's hoping to end it there, but Harry's having none of it.

"Are you trying to make me confess something, Louis?" Harry argues. "Because you seem pretty pissed off with the fact that I'm saying I'm not getting attached."

"I just don't believe you."

"Why the fuck would I lie to you?"

Louis rolls his eyes and deadpans a glare at Harry. "Maybe you're embarrassed to admit to the what's taboo to friends with benefits?"

The anger on his face is outrageous. "If you're going to fucking imply that I'm in love with you, Louis, you might have to be one of the most obscene, deluded men in the history of dickheads. I'm not in love with you. I'm not attached. I'm not anything to you. We're nothing but two men getting a lay off of one another. Co-workers, fuck friends, whatever the fuck you want to call it!"

"I never said you were in love with me--"

"Yeah, but you were fucking thinking it," Harry snaps. "I can't even spend the night to get some well deserved sleep. I please you so much, Louis. I give you so much and then you're throwing me out like a piece of trash."

"I didn't ask for your charity."

"Yeah, but I give it to you, Louis. I do it because I'm so damn obsessed with making you happy. You moaning is the best part of my day, and coming home to your place every night makes my world. You have no damn idea what I do for you. I go to work to a shitty job, in a place where I could have been in your happy place, then I come home to you, and then I leave at the most unearthly times of the morning to take a 9 minute train ride, and 10 minute walk, to please you; so you don't have to wake up to me."

Louis scoffs. "That sounds pretty fucking clingy to me, you wanting to please me all the time."

"You're sounding pretty up yourself to me, not appreciating how much someone is doing for you."

"Fuck you," Louis growls. "I do appreciate how much you do for me, Harry. Don think I'm the most happiest person on the planet. You don't fucking understand what's going on in my life. I have nothing in my life."

Harry groans. "Bullshit, and you know it."

"I fucking know who I am, the only person who doesn't is you."

"I know who you are, Louis," Harry says, standing up from the bed and immediately grabbing his things, "you're a fucking jerk, you are. A useless piece of shit."

"Look who's talking."

Harry's out the door within minutes, and Louis tries his hardest not to cry.

*

He misses out work the next day, and the day after. He tells Eleanor that he's gotten some type of flu overnight. He doesn't want to worry her, but that's all she's been doing.

She's telling Louis to get checked out. Louis only tells her that the flu has nothing to do with some type of disease from their unprotected sex, but Eleanor's having none of it. She warns him if there's no doctor form from him by the time he comes back, she's going to come over there and skin him alive.

It's the reason why Louis is at the clinic this Saturday afternoon. 

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried, because what if Harry did give him something? What if Harry was lying about never sleeping around with other guys? Harry's a fucking liar. Louis knows he's a liar. He wouldn't have stayed the night if he knew what the rules were. He wouldn't have stayed the night if he didn't want to cuddle or be an overly attached clingy asshole.

Then again, if Harry were lying, wouldn't he be in love with Louis?

Well, that isn't right. Louis definitely knows Harry wouldn't be in love with him. Maybe he wasn't lying about  _that._  But he was definitely lying about those other things. Yeah. Harry's still a liar. A stupid, dumb, lying bastard.

Louis is so in love with him.

He's called by reception to one of the doctors. Walking down the hall with the male, he enters in the clinic room and asked to take off his pants for the examination. This isn't a first for Louis, so he isn't too hesitant to kick everything off and lay on the sheeted bed frame. Questions are asked and answered to keep him comfortable, and the test is done within a few minutes of waiting.

Louis gives him the all go for a prostate exam too, and that isn't... well, it isn't that great. His clothes are back on and the doctor asks a few more questions, writing them all down on a documented page. He tells Louis the results should come back within a few days, unless his tests come back an unfortunate positive. 

He's back to work the next day, and Eleanor asks him plenty about the examination and she's pretty convinced that Louis had gone. Louis tells her to calm down a bit, enjoy the good bit of weather they had, and to stop fretting about Louis' health. But he guesses all this worrying does stop her from seeing the real side of things. Louis hasn't spoken to Harry at all, and, by now, that should have risen a red flag. But there's no concern from Eleanor. She's just worrying about a whole lot of other 1% likely things.

Louis can't help to watch how happy Harry looks while working for the next couple of days. He's holding children and he's even going on some of the rides with the special little kids. He's talking to the Alice girl and often skips around like a maniac. He feels quite envious. Harry shouldn't be that happy. Louis doesn't mean anything to him, but still, he shouldn't be that happy. It's like Louis never came into his life. It's like Harry has just forgotten about the past four months.

Maybe he has.

Going home that night, he expected a voice mail from the doctor, but there's nothing. The next night, the same happens, and that's when Louis started to worry.

When Friday night rolls around, Louis is crying into the phone to Eleanor, who still hasn't got a damn clue why Louis is sooking. But Louis is worried. He's so, so worried. The tests were due back a few days ago, unless he is positive. Louis can't be positive. Harry said he didn't have anything. Harry wouldn't be that careless to give someone HIV. He's close to panic. Harry's a fucking liar--

"Louis, baby," Eleanor whispers. "Please tell me what's the matter? I'll help you."

But Eleanor was right. She's been there and been looking over him for so long and Louis had to push her away saying  _nah, he has nothing,_  or  _we're only sleeping with each other, no one else_. She's been the one telling Louis he'll catch something.  _Fuck,_  why did Eleanor always have to be right.

He tells her, but Eleanor doesn't scold or tease. She tells Louis that if the tests do come back positive, he's going to have to tell Harry to get checked out. But that means Louis will have to  _talk_  to Harry, and he has to talk to Harry about fucking diseases they might be spreading around. Louis doesn't want to talk to the bastard. 

The next morning, Louis heads to work with a tonne of paranoia on his shoulders, still. By the end of the work day, he's lethargic and wants to waltz home and collapse into bed, with the test results hopefully back as negative as ever. Instead, after changing out of his costume and walking out of the change rooms, his wrist is caught and he's pulled over behind one of the Disney signs. Harry's in front of him looking viciously concerned, but very, very attractive in his black tee and tight skinny's.

"What do you mean you're positive, Lou?" Harry whispers. "I promise you I haven't slept with anyone else, I couldn't have given it to you."

Louis is taken aback, breath completely knocked out of him. "How the hell did you find that out--"

"Eleanor came up to me and told me, Lou. She wants me to get checked out."

"Oh for God's sake," Louis hisses sharply. "She overreacts over the smallest things." And the poor little man is confused. Louis would laugh, but it seems like Harry's not in the mood for a little banter tonight. "Harry, I'm not sure what I am. I got checked out the other day and they said the test results would be back within a few days, but it's been a week, almost, and that's usually not a good sign."

"I wouldn't lie to you with this," Harry says softly. "I wouldn't risk spreading a disease. I  _promise_  you I haven't slept with anyone else."

Louis shrugs. "Okay, but I think you might want to be tested just in case," Louis breathes out. "You know, better being safe than sorry."

"Y-Yeah," Harry whispers, nodding carefully. Louis turns his head to gaze away from Harry. This encounter wasn't meant to happen. Louis wants to go home and stay alone. "You taking the tube home?"

"Nah," Louis says. "I-I'm, um, I'm taking the bus, again, you know," he shrugs, "like normal."

"Right," Harry huffs. "It's um, it's a little lonely on the train--"

" _Harry_." He knows where this is heading, and he doesn't want to end up back on the same shitty route as earlier. "Look, it's over, yeah? What we had was fun, but... I don't want to end up... like, becoming attached."

"Oh," is all he says, and that also parts them goodbye.

The expected happened, and Louis is relieved about his test results being negative. The doctor apologized for the stress, and told him he's all good to go with no hidden diseases around him, yet. He tells Eleanor, first of all, and she's more relieved than Louis. Then, he tells Harry, who messages back.

        _glad ur ok! xxxx_

Sunday morning, work is the same. Except there's no banter from Harry. He expected everything to return back to normal once he called things off. Maybe Harry would have started to hate him again. Louis wished that were the case. He never misses those glances from the Mad Hatter every so often when he stands on his post. They aren't awkward look away after being caught glances. When Louis catches eyes with him, they stay. It's almost like Romeo and Juliet, but there's nothing holding them back from kissing and making up.

Well, there is, actually. Harry doesn't love him back.

And that's certainly the case when Louis gets out of work that night. Harry's holding some boy and kissing his cheeks just outside of the changing rooms. They aren't particularly in the open, but Louis managed to look at the wrong spot at the wrong time, and he copped a whole lot of Harry flirting with another smaller, but fitter, guy.

Louis knew he wasn't good enough.

He's a pussy to cry, but he doesn't blame himself. It's Harry who's making everything a shitload of trouble. Louis shouldn't be upset. Harry's nothing to him. Harry was literally his fuck mate, that's it. Nothing more. So what if Harry has a guy he fancies. So what if he doesn't fancy Louis. So what if he's happy with someone else.

But Louis' so what's don't make him any happier of a man. Instead, they only show Louis how much of an idiot he was to kick Harry out of the bed that one morning. Now he's missing out on a whole lot, and Louis has been replaced. Replaced by some dickhead who Harry's probably going to please ten times more than Louis with a shower of gifts and a million and one kisses.

Why does Louis have to fail at everything? Why does Harry have to torture him like this? The Mad Hatter isn't meant to be a psycho, emotion killer. But that's what Harry is. It is what it is.

*

The month is warmer and brightly covered in shades of yellow and vibrant orange, leaves falling perfectly on the ground and it's just  _another_  job for Louis. He's raking the grass this morning before he goes to change into his uniform for a day in the stall. He often avoids the change room as much as possible, but that doesn't stop Louis from running into Harry and his boyfriend every morning and night.

 _Fuck,_  this asshole is really showing him up. They don't ever kiss in front of Louis, but they touch and they giggle every time Louis walks past. If Louis knew better, he'd second guess that they were gossiping about how large his arse is. Louis doesn't care though. It's just Harry and his boyfriend. Harry and his boyfriend. Nothing.

Why the fuck did Louis let him out of his bed.

Harry still talks to him. Nothing banterish anymore, so their conversations often end on a boring note. Louis doesn't over think how Harry's starting to fade away from his life. No, he never does that. Nah.

Lonely Louis goes home every night to an empty bed. Lonely Louis never has someone following behind him anymore and slamming the door before shoving his back against it. Lonely Louis hasn't been happy for over a month. It's like he is stuck in that bottom pit of depression and hell, and when Harry came along he was about to get out, but then the ladder fell and there's now no way out whatsoever. Louis is too weak to climb. He's too weak for anything.

Even Louis has noticed in the mirror his cheeks aren't as puffed as they used to be. His skin's a tone greyer. His hair is more matted and oily, but most of it is hidden under that Peter Pan hat of his. He doesn't smile as much anymore, and when he does for a long period of time, his cheeks ache and continue to the next morning. This is not normal for him.

The month after is no different. Tree leaves are still shedding and so is Louis' confidence and happiness. Eleanor has noticed, but Louis pretends to be okay. She doesn't see past it, and that's a first. Louis is quite grateful.

By the end of the November, Harry has stopped seeing him completely. He doesn't look at Louis anymore, but Louis still watches him. He's still as beautiful and clumsy has he's always been. Louis is still in love with him. When Harry delivers boxes to him, they're left on the counter and he walks away with no words being said. Louis wants to stop him one day, talk to him, relive all the memories they once had and maybe spark up the banter again. If he wants something to work, he at least wants everything back to the way they were seven months ago. He wants Harry to hate him again. Not dislike him and ignore him like he's doing. He wants Harry to hate him.

So it begins when December comes around, and Louis begins picking on Harry again. When he'd drop off packages, Louis would hiss out what a bad job he's doing, maybe pick on some useless flaws, but Harry wouldn't say a thing back. When they both exit the change rooms at the same time, Louis would call him out for that extra speck of make up on his cheek and maybe tease how long his hair is, but when they're about to split to their stations, Harry only says a soft  _have a nice night_ , and waves gingerly.

He's a wee bit confused. He's trying his hardest and he just wants Harry to bloody cooperate or something. He wants him to hit back, even punch him in the face. Maybe not, but something to show he's responding correctly. It's like Harry isn't listening to him, maybe takes in the words properly. He doesn't want that. Jesus fucking Christ he misses Harry so much.

One day he comes up to Louis three times, all for boxes in the stalls. Louis is serving customers when the first two boxes arrive; the last box he decides to comment.

"Could you walk any slower? It's like waiting light years for you to deliver these boxes."

Harry's glaring at him when he settles the box down, smirking gingerly before placing a sheet of paper on top of the box. He walks away before Louis opens the note, leaving Louis baffled on the spot.

He takes the note, obviously it's for him, and reads it.

_i miss you .x_

If anything that could make Louis well up and cry, this has to be it. Harry has been listening. Harry has been waiting for sweet comments from Louis and all he's been giving him is a shit load of banter, when he should have been saying sweet nothings.

He looks up from the note and Harry's standing not even ten metres away from him, staring back at the stall. Louis would run out right now and go see him, maybe for a bit of lunch, but he can't. Harry might miss him, but that doesn't mean he wants to make up and fuck again. Harry's got a boyfriend. This note is just a sweet gesture.

He frowns at Harry. Louis mouths _I miss you too_ , and it's blatant Harry's got the message. He quirks up a small smile before turning around in his horrible costume and walking back to the Mad Hatter's teacups.

He really misses Harry.

*

His celebration for New Year's is just as quiet as his birthday. Eleanor and Max leave after midnight, and Zayn's passed out on the couch. At least he isn't  _that_  alone.

He invited Harry but he really didn't expect the boy to come. Well, he kind of did, but in the back of his mind he knew that Harry has been ignorant enough to avoid Louis at all costs. He waits ten minutes longer to get out of the change rooms just so he wouldn't run into Louis on the way to the stations, and he's made his blonde friend do the deliveries to the stalls. Louis feels like his bad luck is pissing endlessly on him.

But he thinks this year might be better. He doesn't have a resolution, because since when do those things actually work? He just has that tingling feeling in his stomach that something good is going to happen. Or maybe it's the vomit bubbling up his throat...

The next morning he wakes with a massive hangover. He doesn't waste time to throw Zayn out of the flat and to take two paracetamols before a cold shower. He doesn't bother moving at all, sitting on the couch, watching some stupid soap opera with delivered take out for dinner.

Work the next day isn't as appealing as supposed, Louis arriving and changing into his uniform. In the corner of his eye, he sees Harry. His abs haven't changed, his hair's a bit longer now that Louis admires him through squinted eyes. Before he gets caught, he spins around and walks out to his post beside Wendy.

Eleanor doesn't seem so overjoyed today either. She doesn't speak of any problems, as per usual, she just cuddles up against Louis like a koala for the entire day. The park isn't too busy, so Louis and Eleanor are left to freely do whatever the fuck came up on their minds. Most of the day is chilling with food by their sides, and Louis goes home that night with a full stomach.

He also goes home to a cold shower, finding out that his water heating has been cut out, and a microwaved dinner. He doesn't overlook his shit life. He accepts it. It's not going to get any better than this for a while. Even if he thinks this year is going to be different, it might change his views on some things, but it won't change how his lifestyle works. 

This is what Louis deserves, and this is what he's going to get for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought. Lonely Louis sitting on the couch on his phone didn't expect a door knock at eleven o'clock. Louis should be asleep by now. He's tired and work is early tomorrow morning, but still he stands up and answers the door just as the knocker bangs his hand against the wood for the second time. To his surprise, a very stressed Eleanor appears at the door with a bag by her side.

"What happened?" Louis asks instantly. The first thing that pops into his mind is that Max kicked her out, but with the boy popping up behind her, that doesn't seem to be the case. "W-What--"

"Lou, please," Eleanor breathes out. "Max won't let him in, he really needs a place to stay."

Eyeing Harry up and down, small in a trench coat and beanie, Louis frowns. Harry has his own place. Harry can't stay in his own home for what reason. And why on Earth did he go to Eleanor first?

Louis lets him in, however. He'll get the answers to his questions once the girl leaves. Harry stumbles in and thanks Eleanor, passing Louis through the door. Louis closes it behind him before stepping forward to Eleanor and glaring at her.

"What's this?"

"Louis, he was evicted," Eleanor says. "He was evicted last week, and he needs somewhere to stay. He told me he's been living with his mate, but then his mate kicked him out, and he came to me earlier today and I told him he'd stay with us, but Max was so, so against it. He was planning to kick me out if I let him in and so I thought maybe you could just do this--"

"Haven't you realized that Harry and I have had a bad past, El?" Louis questions harshly. "What makes you think I'd be happy with this?"

"Well, you let him in," Eleanor back chats. "Please, just a small favour of Harry's behalf, just until he gets onto his feet."

Louis seethes. "When will that be?"

"I don't know," Eleanor shrugs, sighing softly as she begins to pad her way down the corridor. "Ask him yourself."

So he thinks he will, but when he's back inside his flat, he sees Harry sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Louis thinks he's crying. Harry looks up from his palms and breathes out exasperatedly. He doesn't seem to be so shaken up about being evicted. Actually, he's been quite happy at work and wherever else. Things don't make sense.

Louis sits next to him. Harry has a boyfriend, doesn't he? That's another friend he could have gone to. Maybe they broke up, or maybe something happened and that's why Harry's here right now. Maybe he lied to Eleanor, too embarrassed to say anything. But still, why did he come here. If Harry was so bothered by Louis, wanting to keep the ignorant streak up, then he could have denied to come here. Heck, Louis would have guessed that maybe Harry would have rather been on the streets than to be face to face with Louis. Alone.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" Louis asks him. Harry doesn't seem to be doing much but blinking and breathing. His attention doesn't even seem to be on Louis.

He shifts slightly on his spot. "I just needed somewhere to stay," he lies, and Louis knows he's lying. Harry's not looking to him. He's jitterbugging around like some aggravated flea and he's not breathing soundly. A liar. A big fat liar.

"Don't lie," Louis hisses. "I don't lie to you, Harry. Don't lie to me--"

"I'm not lying."

Liar. "Bullshit."

"Louis, please, I-I really just..." Harry's words muck up in his throat, and Louis almost thinks he's begging for something else. "I-I can't live out on the streets. Why would I lie to you about something like this?"

"I don't know," Louis snaps sarcastically. "Maybe because you don't have the courage to see me, after you've ignored me for a month, without some lame excuse on your behalf."

But he really didn't expect Harry to be laughing after that. He's laughing and has a smirk splitting his face and wow, his face is really gorgeous. Why is Harry laughing. He's a fucking psychopath with no home. He's laughing.

"I didn't think you'd be that smart to figure me out."

 _Well..._  "What?" Louis says blankly.

"I was thinking maybe some sap story would actually let you bring me into this flat again," Harry says to him. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd let me in--"

"Harry, back track for two fucking seconds here," Louis scolds. "I invited you to my house literally three days ago for a new years party, and you're pretending like you think you couldn't have gotten a chance to come back in here?"

Harry pulls a guilt-filled face and says, "am I dumb for doing this?"

"Yes," Louis barks coldly. "You're really dumb; stupid even."

Harry snickers lowly and shyly blinks up to Louis' eyes. They're still pretty. God damn, everything about Harry is still pretty. He misses him coming home every night and kissing him everywhere. He misses Harry. He misses him so much. "I miss you, Lou."

Oh. Just...  _oh._

"I..." Louis pauses and eyes down to Harry's hands, so tempted to grab them and kiss every little bony knuckle a million times. But he stops himself. "I miss you too."

Harry looks clueless. Like a little baby. Maybe surprised. He shouldn't be. He should have known how much Louis was missing him. The signs were all there. Louis wouldn't stop texting or inviting him out, or looking at him. Maybe Harry's just daft.

Then Harry gets closer, and by closer, Harry is leaning his head forward in a subtle way. But Louis knows he's about to kiss him. Louis knows that Harry's making a move. Harry's not subtle enough. Ever.

"Harry," Louis puts a hand up to block him, "if you think that I'm going to... give into you like that, you've got the wrong idea, mate."

Harry glowers. "You said you missed me."

"By that I mean talking, Harry," Louis clarifies. "I miss the old us, the one's that bantered. The ones that didn't have a clue about each other and teased the shit out of one another. I miss that Louis and Harry, not the... the friends with benefits Louis and Harry."

"Oh," Harry says, leaning back from Louis' touch. "Y-Yeah, of course."

"Besides," Louis whispers, looking down to his thighs and saying the inevitable truth, "you have a boyfriend already, and I don't want to--"

"Boyfriend?" Harry questions.

Harry's tone is a bit alarming. "Yeah, your boyfriend, that bloke that's been under your arm and following you like a duck around the place."

"I don't have a boyfriend, Lou," Harry says. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Like hell I'm going to believe you after you pulled off the I'm evicted out of my house stunt, Harry," Louis hisses, but Harry's face is soft with confusion. Maybe he isn't lying. "That guy, the black haired guy or whatever. You flirt with him a tonne. You hug plenty too, kiss him sometimes--"

"Oh for Christ sake, Lou," Harry snaps. "That's just a friend."

"That's what they all say."

"He works in Hollywood Studios, his name is Nick," Harry continues. "You ask him yourself, we're just friendly, Lou. I'm not interested in him. And I don't kiss him. We've never kissed! I wouldn't do that."

"I've seen you--"

"And why were you watching?" Harry backfires. It leaves Louis silent. "Why do you care? Like you said, we're not doing this thing anymore, I can see whoever I want."

Louis rolls his eyes to Harry. "I never said you couldn't," he says coldly. "You can sleep with whoever the fuck you want."

"Yeah, but you know what, Louis? Sometimes, the people you want to sleep with don't want to sleep with you back, so that's the pickle I'm stuck in at the moment."

Louis laughs in short, crossing his arms over his chest. "Good to see you're not some type of Mad Hatter rapist."

"Are you listening to me?" Harry asks, shuffling closer. "Do you have to slam down every little thing I say with something inappropriate?"

"I'm sure talking about anti-rape isn't inappropriate--"

"That's not what I'm fucking talking about, Louis." Louis can see he's becoming irritated, and if Louis is honest, it's quite funny. He begins to laugh menacingly. "God damn, if you don't fucking shut up, I'll slam you down in a minute."

"Not nice to say that to a person who's lending you their house before you get back on your feet," Louis winks. "Could just throw you out, maybe let you walk the streets on your homeless feet--"

"Louis, this isn't funny--"

"But it fucking is, Harry," Louis says, his sarcasm now fading and the air is growing severely tense. "You lie to me, acting like you're one step away from being a hobo on the streets, then you're inside my house, trying to make up to me with a kiss. Are you expecting me to believe you when you say anything?"

Harry scoffs and whispers, "I don't lie about everything."

"But you do," Louis bites. "How much more of this are you thinking I'm going to take? I don't continue to eat bullshit when it's given to me."

Harry shoves his head into his hands and exhales loudly. Maybe he's done. Good. Louis wants to go to bed so he doesn't wake up as half as cranky as he does when waking up alone. 

"You don't understand, Louis," is all he says, and it leaves Louis perplexed as hell.

He sits and watches Harry for five minutes. Neither of them move. Louis thinks he should, since well, they're not doing much. They're done. Louis knows they're done.

"What do you mean?" Of course Louis knows they're not done.

 "I miss you so much," Harry whispers. "Every night, I've missed you. Every night when I'd walk home from your place, I'd want to come back and cuddle you to make sure you're alright. I wanted to cook you breakfast in the morning, head to work with you, then repeat everything for every single day that I live."

Sweet Harry is definitely not a good Harry for Louis to be messing with. Undeniably adorable and sweet talking Harry is definitely not a good Harry to be messing with.

He leans forward, an elbow on his knee and chin in his palm. He calls out, but is left interrupted. "Har--"

"I cuddle my pillow every night, pretending there's someone there. Even before we finally... even before I finally got the courage to talk to you properly at the party, I'd cuddle my pillow pretending it was you. Fuck... I probably sound so fucking creepy, but... just, I loved what we had Lou. I miss kissing you, miss pleasing you, I miss every little thing about you."

He's hoping to God Harry's not playing right now. "What did you miss about me?"

"I miss your little giggles when I kiss you, like the way you like it. Those pixie kisses down your neck, or your stomach. I miss how you'd call me Harold, and the way your hands curl around mine even after a small touch. I miss how softly you breathe, and then when you kiss me behind the ear you'd always rub your nose just under my hair line and... I loved that."

Shockingly, not once Harry had mentioned sex. Nothing about sex. It's just... it's all about Louis.

"I missed you plenty," Harry whispers. "I-I never got the courage to say how much I needed you in my life. I didn't want to look weak because you always knew me as the dominant one, and I never wanted to show you that I cared so much to the point you'd assume I loved you, but I do. I care and..."

Louis gulps down the barking words in his throat. "And what?"

Harry looks very uncomfortable so very suddenly, and Louis thinks he might have gone too far. Maybe kissing him would do the trick right now, or maybe a quick hand job on the couch-  _fuck,_  he needs to stop thinking about that.

But Harry twists on the spot and hides between his shoulders, blinking over to Louis and whispering, "um," and it's the cutest he can get. Louis breaks out in a fond grin and presses his hand onto his knee. Then Harry speaks. "I think I might... love you a little bit."

 _Oh._  "W-What?" Just... what is Harry saying right now. "Are you... are you a tad drunk or something, H?"

"No, I-I..." Harry looks down with a frown. He seems as if he wasn't meant to say anything. "I'm just kidding, Lou--"

"Harry," Louis whispers, squeezing his kneecap to earn his eyes. "You can tell me the truth, yeah? I won't judge you if you do love me. It's... you know... nice."

Harry faces away from him and shudders out a breath. "I can't really cover up what I've imprinted now, Lou."

"So you really do love me?"

"Well," he affirms with a nod and brings his eyes up slowly to clarify directly. "Yeah, I've loved you for a long time."

"How long?" Louis asks immediately. Harry doesn't seem to be too light on answering everything in a heartbeat.

"Lou, you... this is embarrassing." He hides his head into his hands and giggles lightly, peering up to Louis through his finger. "You probably think I'm a weirdo, or something, for how long I've loved you. Or that I even love you in the first place--"

"No," Louis denies, hand slipping further up the boy's thigh. "It's not weird, H."

Louis' face is dead straight, and Harry knows he's serious, just like the night on the Seine. Harry's hand hovers over his and Louis can feel the warm feeling that he's been missing in his life for months. Harry loves him. Harry loves him too.

"Since we met," Harry confirms. "I remember the day you walked into the studio for casting and I just... firstly I knew you were going to get the Peter Pan role, but I just... I wanted to get your number so bad, and then we kind of got into a brawl and that's when I thought maybe if I tried to push you away with ignorance then my feelings would go away and... well."

Exactly the same, and it never worked for Louis. "I knew I saw heart eyes inside those devilled peridots of yours when you looked at me from the teacups."

"Heeey," Harry barks playfully, nudging Louis gently. "I talked to Niall about it a lot, and he'd always tell me to go for it, but I never got the courage to. I always thought you were with that Eleanor girl, and that you were straight, so I felt weird, but then I knew after the night on the Seine that something was there."

"I've always been gay," Louis laughs half-heartedly, curling into Harry slightly. "You had nothing to worry about."

"I had everything to worry about," Harry says. "You're perfect to me, Lou, and there's no way a guy like me deserves a chance with you."

Louis sighs and plops his head onto Harry's shoulder, too bothered to use his will power to not give in to the cuddly boy. "Everyone deserves a chance."

"I ignored you for so long, and lied, about plenty of things. I said I'd never fall in love with you, even though I already was," Harry frowns, "and I know there's plenty of other things you'd hate about me if you got to know me."

"Harry, I do know you," Louis assumes. "I watch you plenty and I know you're some clumsy dork but you're a buttercup with children. I know you love the burgers from the same place Eleanor and I go to, the burger with the green wrapper. I know you don't lie if it's to protect someone, and you lie for all the good reasons."

"Lying isn't good in general."

"But sometimes it is," Louis says. "Look, I've lied as well, H. I've lied so many times and that's probably why I haven't been living such a good life. My flat, I've been living in since I moved here two, nearly three years ago, and nothing has changed. I can't afford anything, especially my bills. I can't go home to see my family, I can't do anything. I'm stuck here for the time being until I shovel up more cash myself."

Harry kisses him sweet on the forehead, his hand tightening around his. "You deserve so much," Harry whispers down to him, kissing his head again. "You're so beautiful, Louis."

He presses his nose into Harry's shoulder and snickers quietly. He never found a way to accept compliments, or how to say anything back. He really should tell Harry he loves him too. Maybe that's what Harry's worrying about, that Louis might not love him back. But he certainly does. For as long as Harry has loved Louis.

But they're kissing within a few close seconds and Harry's pulling Louis into his lap. Stradding across Harry's thighs is the poor, hungry boy who's kissing his fat lips like if he's being shipped to war at dawn. Louis is glad that isn't the case though. Harry's his for tonight, and tomorrow, and the rest of whatever Louis thinks is right. Maybe his life.

Harry's hands are spread wide across his arse and Louis has missed them there. He missed Harry's touch everywhere. The spots used to tickle during the day when he thinks about Harry touching those places. Bracketing his face, Louis doesn't care but to delve into Harry's mouth and lick inside it, feeling totally overwhelmed by the fact he's got his someone back. Harry's back home. Louis has his home.

He's whining softly into Harry's pretty mouth and grinding down with all the power he has. Harry meets his stuttering hips up and groans when the friction is all too much. He's missed this as much as Louis has, so there's no turning back now that tonight's going to end up as sweet and blissful as those days from months ago.

Louis grips tight on Harry's shirt and leans back to daze at his eyes. The shirt comes off within an instant, and Louis' flies somewhere too. Harry's mouth attaches to his collarbone, sucking in an awful amount of purple bruises in his soft skin. Louis is going to look at those in the mirror tomorrow morning and smile. He knows he is.

"Shit," Louis snaps, hands curling around Harry's shoulders as the boy kisses affectionately up his neck. Harry's always been some type of marker of his territory. Harry's just lovely like that. 

"I've missed you," he repeats, kissing between his collarbones. "I've missed you so much." 

He pulls Louis to the side, dropping him to the couch where his head lies on a small throw pillow. Harry's between his legs, his mouth around his left nipple, teeth nipping tenderly. Louis giggles and watches as Harry's eyes never leave his. He's such a minx. So lovely, so delicate. How did he survive for so long without Harry.

Kissing down his stomach, Lous whimpers and cowers into Harry's hand rubbing against his crotch. They might fuck on his couch, actually. Louis doesn't care where they are. He really needs Harry. Harry's head is low and his mouth is hovering over the zip. He sits up slightly, asking for Louis' attention with a small  _um._  Louis wants to slap him silly for being so damn adorable.

"Are we..." Harry trails off, and Louis asks him to finish, tilting his head. "Are we fucking tonight?"

Louis barks out with a gentle laugh. "Baby, why are you asking that?"

"I-I," Harry bends down low, a bit of a smirk teetering at his lips, "thought maybe you're just doing this to be nice."

"Oh Haz," Louis laughs loudly, hand carding through Harry's wonderfully washed hair. It's always so fluffy. Damn, how did he last this long without Harry. Harry pulls down the zip and sticks his face deep into his crotch, nuzzling softly and rushing a wave of arousal over Louis. " _Oh,_  Harry--"

He snickers, and keeps his mouth on his covered cock, soon fumbling with the elastic of his briefs and pulling them down with his pants. His wet mouth hovers over his cock and it looks so delicious. Louis wants to fuck up into it. Harry taunts him with hot licks on the underside and watches Louis' face screw up from anticipation. Harry reaches forward and lock their hands together before expertly going down on Louis with his nose nudging right against his lightly trimmed pubes.

"I-I haven't gotten off in weeks, H," Louis admits, his back arching up as Harry pulls off. He's hard against his stomach already, feeling like he's going to come, embarrassingly. Harry's eyes are full and dark, still gorgeous however. His eyes give him the sighs. "I want you."

"I want you too," Harry responds. "But I want you on the bed."

Louis has never scrambled faster towards the mattress, bouncing when landing on his back and his legs already spread wide to accommodate Harry's lean body. Louis watches how he pulls off his own skinnies, his sinful legs looking endless. Louis wants to bite and nibble his porcelain thighs. They're pristine and innocent, until Louis makes them tremble when fucking into him. It's not often Louis gets to fuck him, mainly because Louis likes being the one that gets wrecked. He wants that tonight.

Harry's between his legs. He's got lovely as dark as midnight briefs on and they're thin enough for Louis to feel how hard he is underneath the material. He's rocking up into Louis like a menacing tease. Louis needs to come, badly, and it seems as if he's not going to last as long as he'd hoped.

Harry should know when Louis is close. He moans wildly and begins to claw at the latter's back like a distressed cat. His toes dig into the mattress and his breathing becomes so arrhythmic it could be considered a respiratory problem. But Harry, still thrusting deep into his crotch and getting the perfect friction between Louis' cock and his material, is not letting loose on making sure Louis lasts the night. Louis thinks that's just plain evil.

"H," he calls weakly, and Harry mumbles something against his neck and rolls his crotch into him again, and that makes Louis gasp and clutch hard onto Harry's shoulder blades. He's losing it. "H-H, please, just... please."

Harry puckers his lips from Louis' neck and leans up to kiss Louis sweet on the mouth. He smiles before saying, "I want it slow tonight."

"Yeah," Louis breathes ruggedly. "Yeah, I want that. Slow... make love to me."

"Fuck, yeah," Harry hisses, his hand scraping down Louis' curves and ends at the base of his cock. He wraps his hand around him, thumb swiping off pre-come dribbling from the top and using it to slick his hand up slightly. It's enough to stroke him a few times, tugging hard to make Louis writhe underneath him. "Come for me, sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip and gasps out a little  _ah_  before he's arching up and spurting out white strings of filth between both of their stomachs. Harry chuckles and kisses his collar bone, stroking him quick and fast with no intention to stop. Sensitivity has never overpowered Louis as much as it has now.

"Dear God," Louis cusses out, hand coming up and securing around Harry's bicep. "Lick me out, H. Please."

Harry nods and pecks his nose, getting some come between his fingers and circling two digits by his hole. Louis whines and feels finger number one closing in, passing his rim and gently being pressed against the small bundle of nerves. Harry watches for Louis' reaction, and it's almighty massive. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth hangs open as if there's nothing to hold it up. 

"You look so good, baby," Harry praises, curling his finger and making Louis bark out profanities. He shoves in another finger, scissoring his fingers as per usual. "I love you."

Louis would have said it. He would have said it right there and then but Harry's jabbing right into the spot. He's lost for words. He thinks he could come again from this.  _Fuck,_  he's never felt so sensitive and alive. He's buzzing with libido. He pushes himself down onto Harry's digits and squeaks for moremoremore but there's nothing more. 

Harry spins him around and slaps his arse. He loves it when Harry treats him dirty. But there's none of that tonight. Harry kisses right on the red hand print left behind and apologizes, soothingly kneading his thumbs into his arse. He's spreading his cheeks and nuzzling his nose so close to his perky hole and Louis really wants to ride his face.

One stripe up his pretty hole and Louis is cowering terribly. Harry's mouth is so warm and delicious, and his tongue is a fucking expert. Louis cries out into his arms and presents himself with his arse a bit higher in the air, coaxing Harry further. The tip of his tongue fiddles around his arse, dipping close into the rim and flatting out his entire tongue against his bum. 

"You're... you feel so good," Louis tells him. "Yes, your tongue is so good--"

He's groaning into his forearms when Harry pushes a finger inside him. Harry just keeps going relentlessly. He doesn't try and pause for Louis to take in a breath. He knocks it right out of him when there's three fingers inside and a tongue licking around his open hole. Louis keeps hissing out yes after yes and is pushing back as much as he can to feel Harry's nose against his arse. It feels  _oh_  so good.

Harry kisses up at the dimples on his back and Louis can feel him grin. Louis tries to look back, but Harry's too far behind, still pumping three fingers hastily into him. Harry begins to speak softly. 

"Feel good, sweetheart?" Harry asks,  tongue tracing along each little bump of his spine. Louis moans and nods, forehead on his arms. Harry chuckles in response. "Taste so good, love. I missed you."

"I missed you too," Louis strains out. "Fuck, Haz, I wanna feel you."

"You'll get me, darling," Harry reassures. "Don't worry, Lou. You'll get me."

Five more minutes of teasing torture is given. Louis' cock is against his stomach again, red and desperate, and finally, Harry's lubing himself up with that leftover stupid grape flavoured shit he bought so very long ago. Between his cheeks his cock sits, and Harry leans forward to shove two fingers into Louis' mouth. Louis takes them in and tastes his fingers, so long and lean. Louis has missed these in his mouth. 

Harry pulls them back and tucks the two digits back into his arse, scissoring them slightly before pulling them out and roughly slamming himself in. Louis spreads his legs wider instinctively, tempted to push himself up on his knees for Harry to grope at his hips and go hard. But this is slow tonight. It's passionate, and Louis feels the tingles down his back when Harry kisses at the back of his neck and slowly rocks into him. He can feel every bit of Harry. That's never really happened before. How the head jabs right into his prostate, how Harry's hands delicately trace down his golden skin, how in sync their breathing is, and how Harry always manages to slide against every perfect spot in his body.

Louis reaches back to stop him, sitting up and feeling Harry pull out. He twists around and faces Harry, reaching up to kiss him tenderly before leaning back on his elbows with his legs over Harry's hips. Harry's quick to hammer back in, leaving Louis shocked and also flat against the mattress.

"I wanted to see your pretty face." Harry smiles down to him, picking up a slow pace that's impossibly perfect. "You're so pretty, Lou."

"Kiss me," Louis demands, hand curling around Harry's neck and pulling him down to smother his mouth with his tongue. Louis is grinning so hard between them; their teeth click too many times. They keep giggling between kisses, and Louis is enjoying himself way too much. He shovels his hand through Harry's curls to bring him down deep. He then whispers, "harder, Haz."

"No more slow?" Harry quizzes, and Louis shakes his head no. Harry slides out slowly and kisses Louis once before jumping his hips forward, pulsing hard against Louis' bundle and making him scream out into the hot air.

"Fuck," he bites, hands flailing over his head. He relaxes completely, feeling like liquid under Harry. He just wants Harry to fuck him hard into the mattress. Fuck being slow; making love is hot and quick, to be blissful and to make each other feel good. He wants Harry deep inside, as if he's so far up his arse that it hurts. 

Harry gives that to him, hands circling around his wrists and being pinned above his head. Louis spreads his legs further, Harry hammering into him with no sense of rhythm. He's going for it. Louis is keeping weak gasps to himself and making sure his pretty boy comes. He's speaking dirty, telling Harry how sexy his toned body looks, how much he's missed his fat cock, how much he's missed tasting Harry's mouth and feeling his touch linger in the morning. Harry's groaning, falling down into Louis' neck and sucking in another bittersweet love bite before picking up his rhythm and slamming hard into Louis' arse. He's going to be sore in the morning. Good.

A hand is wrapped around his own girth and he tugs in pace with Harry's thrusts. Harry's mumbling something into his neck, unable to be heard under Louis' pretty moans into the sensual atmosphere. Harry sits up, taking both of Louis' calves into each hand and continues to roll his crotch perfectly to meet into Louis right on point. Louis sees stars. Harry's hands digs into his calf muscles and he's just pounding into him with all his might. He cries out Harry's name and lets go of his own cock, feeling weak and powerless. He doesn't know what's coming over him. He feels so light-headed and wonderful. He still sees stars.

He can hear Harry faintly groan and he falls down on top of Louis' chest, breathing harshly towards Louis' face. He can feel warmth inside him, and,  _oh,_  Harry's never came inside him before.  _Fuck,_  it feels so... beautiful. Perfect. Romantic. It's like Harry's claimed him.

He doesn't remember how he falls asleep that night, but he's sure it was with a smile on his face.

*

It's a different story in the morning. Harry wakes up next to a clean Louis in a pair of briefs. Harry changed him last night. The poor boy was out cold before Harry could kiss him and hug him to sleep. Harry can't stop looking at him. He shouldn't really be here. 

Just because Harry told him he loved him, doesn't really mean that this entire thing means something different. They're just fucking again, just... well, not as friends with benefits now. Harry's so in love with him. He's quite glad he's told him. It's been bottled inside him for years. Niall wouldn't go with him to lunch because he talked about Louis so much. He's always been on Harry's mind. In the shower, on the toilet, at work, while cooking. Now, Louis knows. And Louis accepts, whether or not he agrees back.

He doesn't mind if Louis doesn't love him back. Harry will always love Louis.

He thinks he'll leave when Louis wakes up, tell him he loves him once more before taking his things and heading back home before work. Shit, he has work. It's nearing half five now. Maybe he should just leave. He can talk to Louis at work, or after, maybe later tonight. There's always time for Louis, just not now.

He removes his arm from around his waist. Louis' little hands were tucked up between their chests during most of the night, and when Harry moves he instantly misses the feeling of his knuckles. He's up and sitting in bed, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing. He looks back to Louis once more and sees the boy still soundly sleeping. He'll keep it that way.

Harry takes both of his feet from under the duvet and plants them on the floor, about to scoot himself off and lift up to collect his thing and run out. However, there's two arms locking around his waist. Harry faces Louis who's behind him, head still down into a pillow and hands interlocking to secure them around Harry. Harry could think he's moving in his sleep. It's adorable, really.

Harry tries to pry the fingers from his stomach, but Louis whines out horrendously. Like a child. Harry knits his eyebrows together and views the troublesome kid, who's still face down in a pillow.

"Lou," Harry calls, again, trying to take his hands away to leave Louis at peace. 

"Noooo," Louis groans, locking his fingers tighter together and pulling back, making Harry's stomach concave. "Stay."

 _Odd._  "Lou," he repeats. "Baby, we have work this morning."

"Noooo," he moans again. "I want you to stay."

Harry thinks another half an hour won't do him too much harm, so he relaxes and falls back into bed, minding Louis' head. He spins in Louis' arms and cradles the boy into his chest, kissing between his eyebrows and watching as he blinks his eyes open. He's so beautiful.

"If you get me in trouble for being late, I think you're not going to get kisses for a while," Harry whispers, pushing Louis' hair back and letting it fall over his brows again. Louis is so contented and looks drowsy still. Harry doesn't blame him.

"I-I want to call in," Louis says back. "I want to stay in bed with you."

"Lou," Harry scolds. "We can't do that, love."

"Whyyy," the child whines, pulling Harry in closer and nuzzling his nose against his sternum. "Just say you have diarroeha or something--"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lou, I'm not going to say that," laughs Harry. "Do you really want me to stay, or is that your sleepy mind talking?"

"If you leave, I'm never going to let you in again."

"You're not going to yell at me for staying the night?" Harry provokes, Louis pinching at the boy's stomach and whimpering into his torso. "I'll call Niall, tell him to call in for me then. We can order some food and stay in for the day."

Louis yawns and presses himself in further to Harry's touch. He purrs. "Good," he affirms. "I really want... you... to..." Louis pauses and Harry almost thinks he's asleep. Then there's a small, "yeah."

"Baby, you need to sleep," Harry snickers, smooching his lovely boy's forehead. Louis falls asleep within seconds.

*

Eight in the morning is when Louis wakes up to an empty bed. He's slightly panicky, shooting up and calling out softly for Harry. He sits in his bed, duvet clenched in his hands. There's no response from his boy.

Instead, there's a head peeking around the door frame of the bathroom and Louis' relief washes over him. He reaches up with two hands, like a toddler, and coos for Harry to come over and hug him into bed. Harry does, rolling over in bed and keeping Louis warm against his torso. Harry smells like home, and a bit like sex still. He's changed into a long t-shirt that was probably packed in that large bag of his. Louis tangles their legs together and keeps himself silent when he listens to Harry's heartbeat.

Harry kisses his hair. He loves the feel of Harry nestling into his scalp. It makes Louis giggle and tighten himself in the bundle himself and Harry are in. It still feels like a dream. Harry loves him back just as much as Louis loves him. They had sex last night. Wow. Everything's falling into place.

Everything is falling into place.

"By the way," Louis says, earning Harry's attention immediately. Louis looks up and shines to his pretty boy. He can't believe he hasn't said it yet. "I love you."

And by the way Harry tenses up a little, he probably wasn't expecting that. "You're not just saying that because I've said it--"

"I've loved you as long as you've said you've loved me," Louis elucidates. "I would have said it before, but you were kinda fucking the words out of my head so..."

Harry snorts. "If I'd told you earlier, we would have had a much easier life by now, you know?"

"Yeah, but someone plans for all these things to happen," Louis says to him. "And I'm glad it turned out to you telling me how much you loved me, then you fucking me sweet and hard, then me staying with you this morning expecting some toast and eggs for brekky--"

Harry pinches him on the arse. "Fuck that, I'd rather go out and grab us some nutella crepes."

Louis grins at the idea. "I think I like the sound of that."

They kiss a bit, not minding the morning breath whatsoever, because who cares at this point. Louis messages a worrisome Eleanor, who has already sent him 30 texts to why he hasn't shown up at work yet. Louis tells her to call in for him.

_why? are you sick lou? did something happen at home? why isn't harry in?_

_**nothing's wrong don't worry.**_

"Lou," Harry calls. "Do you think the white or grey tee?"

Louis rolls his eyes and looks from his phone, staring at Harry expressing paranoia over some damn t-shirts. "Babe, we're going out to get crepes."

"I know, but..." Harry bites his lip and looks between the two shirts. "White?"

"Go grey," Louis advises. "You look pretty with grey."

Harry beams and turns back into the bathroom to change and shave. There's a message from Eleanor waiting for him.

_why aren't you coming in?_

She's probably told Jaxon already, and Eleanor wouldn't buzz about hush hush to everyone at work. She's more trustworthy than that.

       ** _harry loves me_**

He leaves his phone on charge and meets Harry in the bathroom to change. They head out for breakfast, crepes as said, and eat while walking through the city's streets. There's not much they haven't done around here alone, but they go walk around as if they're stupid tourists around the place. It's like another part of life, sightseeing with someone else. And that someone else is Harry, who's holding his hand in public and is licking the bit of nutella that's left beside Louis' mouth. 

They send pictures to Eleanor later, who calls Louis up and hisses at him for not showing up at work for all the wrong reasons, but also squeals at the fact Harry and him have worked things out, and not only that, they've worked things out for the better. Louis falls asleep with Harry beside him that night, and the next night, and the next night after that. It isn't sex that's putting them to sleep, it's just the feeling of their heartbeats coming together and beating together.

A week after the new year started, Louis knows that this year is not only going to be better, but is going to be the best.

(After a few months of working together, laughing together, and being together, Harry officially moves in - not as if half of his shit isn't at Louis' place already. They declare themselves boyfriends after that, and Eleanor can't get enough of the two. They put their money together to invest in a new house out of Chatelet Les Halles and move closer towards the green country side of Disneyland. Louis buys Harry a cat for their 6 month anniversary. There's more work, more play, Louis is happy, Harry is happy. Eleanor gets engaged, and marries Max. The night after the wedding, Harry proposes to Louis at no other than on the top deck of the Eiffel Tower. They marry. They're planning for a family, but Louis thinks that the kids at Disneyland is enough right now.)

(Oh, and they also get a proper bed that Louis sometimes complains about, but it's better than the springy mattress he used to be on. All because every morning and night he goes to bed and wakes up with Harry right beside him.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) x
> 
> [other ao3 with chaptered stories.](archiveofourown.org/users/LarryUniverse)
> 
> [tumblr.](since-he-was-eighteen.tumblr.com)


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